Ramblings

2010-11-29T13:32:00.000-05:00

With my mind’s eye I see so many things I could be…thoughts of being a better me, one shrouded in love, with a strong sense of the manifest power of a living God. To discern, access and utilize the power He has given seems sometimes an elusive dream but through time’s tick tock, certainty, knowledge and the true path is awakened and embraced.

In-between the spaces of occupied life, there is real thought and baby steps towards full growth are taken. Yes in these times the issues which plague an unsettled mind become etched in charcoal clarity… sublime solutions to a reality. Disconnected from the clutter, the simplicity of life blooms in your hand…live, worship, love all with whom you make contact, nothing else is worthy of prolonged pondering. But then comes the morning.….

In the bright of day, its hard to fit the remnant pieces of the eureka moment together in the puzzle and so the temptation to perpetuate the cycle of ill-thought and worry pour forth as the only course of action to be taken. Reflections of a self in the mirror is not yesterday’s strong image and laying hold of the hope continually slipping from your hands is consuming….In these days I’ve found it best to hold on to the Word, to the promises, to the Spirit for guidance and eventual understanding.

Intimacy

2010-11-29T13:26:00.000-05:00

Like sweet Port to the palate, his presence commands attention….awakens the senses. Standing close enough to drink in his aura, his eyes draws you in….his quiet confidence is… intoxicating. In a crowded airport a simple goodbye is transformed into an intimate moment….the hustle and bustle of those going and coming becomes a distant echo…. replaced by the captivating smell of his aftershave mixed in with the unmistakable musk of him.

The morning stubble on his cheek is comfortingly coarse against yours and sweet sensation tingle down to your core…like a reflex you lean into his strength. His hug is firm… sure, protective…..mildly possessiveJ His stare is intense, evoking memories of open eyed kisses and soft whispers in the break of dawn….coaxing, teasing, daring you to perform…..a low moan against the side of his neck, a little peck too and a visible shudder radiates across his chest through his plain white T in reaction to you…Pleasing.

In the end, as you unravel hungry lips from his, and trail your fingertips down his back, across his waist and pull him closer still to feel all of him against the pulse of your now damp flesh…a last kiss on the cheek to say goodbye until when next we meet….interlocked fingers are unwillingly released.

Though the moment is pregnant with other emotions, they are things which prudence, distance and wrong timing dictate should better be left unsaid….one can only offer up respect for the intimacy shared.

A Good Soul

2010-11-29T13:22:00.000-05:00

I believe the Lord puts people in your life for specific purposes….My Primary School teacher, Mrs. Thomas, was one such. She was an institution unto herself, a tower of strength at her 5ft 4inches, a mind filled with all the world’s knowledge (I thought at the time),the fastest draw in the East with a leather strap and an unfailing spirit of kindness.

I was fortunate to have been one of the many subjects under her tutelage since grade 1 and formed a connection, though unwelcomed sometimes. Over time, however I grew to appreciate her uncompromising style which was borne out of her yearning to see each one of us excel beyond hers and our imaginings. Yes, overtime I began to realize that this woman was a droplet from heaven…afterall, only an angel could open my dusty mind to the rudiments of mathematics and actually make some of it stick.

My ‘fortunateness’ lasted over 4 years in her private lesson class and I can scant remember any bad moments really. Instead, I have two vivid memories of this imparter of knowledge….one where she was responsible for the worse arsing I’d ever received (personally mi feel she never haffi talk bout the private lesson I was missing with Ms. Lewis, her stand in while she vacationed. I strongly feel she did me wrong by reporting my absence to my mother one Sunday on her way to church…that day I learnt the ‘value’ of the community approach to child rearing).
My second memory is much better and has been the light house to which I’ve clung for the better part of my adult life. On a day in a week where there seemed to have been a disconnection from God’s grace in every part of my 11 yr old life, I walked home from the bus stop noting every crack in the sidewalk and the tip of my shoes… “Lift your head and walk proudly child”….her voice echoed through my mire and I smiled…”Good evening Mrs. Thomas” I replied.

T’were words for strong, focused living.

A month or two ago I swung by her home, having heard she was ill....prepared to see the strong tower, though by now she would be 90 ish….She didn’t remember me. My prayers go up for her still and I thank God that she knew me then and chose not to shirk from the responsibility of encouraging a yout’.

The good one does will always live on.

Cane River...:)

2010-10-11T14:53:00.001-05:00

Sometimes the Lord lets you experience a place where the great spirits of old must have offered up sacrifices of praise. Nestled in the Hills of Nine Miles Bull Bay is the Cane River Falls. It’s a place which herald’s the glory of God is visible…it’s a creative mind’s dream.

The ‘good’ stretch of road from the main up the hill ends sooner than you think so a four wheel drive vehicle is recommended…..even the 200 or so steps down to the river side is worth it when oxygen flows back to your thighs and legs. The hardest of hearts could not deny itself the opportunity to be lulled by the cascading water gushing ferociously through the rocks to the pool.
The first touch of water to a born Kingstonian’s skin is cold but soon the body adapts and all the senses are filled with the sheer power of this force of nature….one can’t help but fall completely in love.

As the current laps water against the surrounding boulders, a being acknowledges the hand of God and is stimulated to pray…. basking in the stream of sunlight through the trees. In your mind you realize that Man is but a small part of His Creation….on the lowest rung even…for how can We be more than the majestic tree growing 15 ft or so above the ground..but anchored by 60ft roots which wrap the rocks….immovable. Roots like the mane of a real, real Rastaman, thick; strong; exuding know-ledge and the wisdom chastened by age. A creature of unreserved obedience to God’s will.….Can man ever really be as much of a blessing as the old tree?

After 2hrs of intermittent massage by the torrents, the journey to the top commences… and while you exercise your mind on the deeper contemplations of this existence, the burn in your lungs and limps becomes more evident and your are constrained to focus on the task at hand..the 150 steps left to go. When the worst is over and you catch your breath leaning against the car, thanks flows from your lips to God’s ear… thanks for the privilege to experience, commune and rest with Him…thanks for days off to replenish your faith.

Believing

2010-10-11T14:50:00.000-05:00

I believe that when life changing moments occur, its God’s way of getting our attention.

I believe that if you are unconnected with God and Christ you interpret life’s happenings as triumphant moments where You fell down and You overcame and You motivated yourself to strive for better…I believe however, that all these are the works of the Lord and through Him are we strengthened to fight that great fight and indeed win the war.

I believe and thank God daily for knowing my heart and blessing me with enough grace to lean not on my less than sure footed understanding and steps in the ‘right’ direction….I believe, no , know, that my heart will forever hold on to His promise and that my wish , desire, longing is to finally get it right and rest in His embrace for the rest of my life…I believe he’ll give me even just for trying.

I believe in the work of the Church to fulfill God’s plan and I give thanks I was born in a Christian Country…cause if it’s this hard for one who was always surrounded by the Word, then failure would surely be my destiny if I had to convert from one religion to another. I believe the bretheren should edify themselves to be able to answer tough questions when posed by those just beyond the pearly gates…for we are all have come up short.

I believe that humans have an endless capacity to judge one another and themselves too harshly...regardless of our position on the ‘righteousness’ continuum. I thank God for being better than myself.

I believe in the power of prayer and whispering a blessing on the life of everyone you meet, I believe God hears, listens and will show His magnificence to not prove me wrong. I firmly believe it is by His Grace that I shall look back at the beginning thirty years later and say thank you Lord for bringing me to it and through it all…I will be at peace.

Focus failing

2010-10-11T14:49:00.000-05:00

For a delicate being who can barely stand one day of rain let alone 5, it’s no wonder thoughts degenerate into contemplations of the baser, and certainly more exciting parts of life. I’ll blame these ramblings on the rain and only that cause in the midst of the storm, in times past, the opportunity was used to focus energy on a ready, willing and very able him.

A vivid picture of him stripped of all cotton confines is fixed in my mind. His execution of simple tasks like lifting your leg to rest on his shoulder prompts a choreographed piece - of muscle with flesh, each sinew a visible tease…his sweet smile when he notices not only the weather is wet.

Yes, in the cold of a rainy night, a melody tap, tapping on the windows, its the perfect time to treat a body to good love….to really whisper vulgar nothings in his ear, watch his toes curl from a taste or two…explore all of him…listen to his release….a woman should always find time to remind her man that love springs forth from her breasts, her hips and finger tips…her heart and the recesses of her perverted mind:0)

Understanding in Time

2010-09-01T15:50:00.001-05:00

Give thanks in all circumstances,
for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus

Navigating the currents of life can be overwhelming for those not rooted ‘n’ grounded in their belief in the Most High one. Indeed the continuous ebb and flow, high tide and low, wreaks havoc on a weak being and manifests doubt in the promises He made to your heart when you cried out and were 'infilled'. Finding praise in these times is nothing short of a miracle and the spirit longs to be like some more sure, those who are thankful for tribulation recognizing and accepting that it is His will….

So a process which should’ve taken a day at most, is prolonged in the weakest among us to days…days spent trying to focus on His previous and present blessings, His comfort through other crisises, His peace in the face of His own demise, His resurrection from the dead…the overcoming principle of our faith. Yes in these times one is hard pressed to consider the great evil as a part of the puzzle, a patch in the quilt of the better life for you He is crafting.

Through the mire of wrong thinking though, praise whispers uncontrollably from within and claws its way through the anger, sorrow, disappointment and doubt and all it takes is a willing heart to listen, a moment of being still, a word from a friend….then one is able to cope..one can lift up scaled eyes and see beyond the natural circumstances to the blessing in the dark cloud.

Eventually one is able to give thanks and praise and crave forgiveness and His further indulgence as your faith grows.

Independence???

2010-08-11T16:37:00.002-05:00

In the celebration of the earthday for the black, green and gold, I learnt of a video that was posted to Youtube..unfortunately.

In horror, disbelief and disgust I watched through tear filled eyes a symbol of law and order degenerate into the villains he swore to serve and protect the nation’s people from…an alleged guilty man was shot in cold blood…and despite the skewed reports, he was not, in my eyes, putting up a resistance sufficient to warrant such final and drastic action… the opportunity to let the justice system decide his fate was taken unceremoniously from him. Like a dog who bit his owner, his life was snuffed out…the life of a Jamaican was ended with disdain amidst cheers from a blood/ justice hungry crowd.

How can we rest easy knowing that love seemingly has no place in the pulse of our people?

I remember being young at school and singing with youthful exuberance songs of Independence,…I remember pledging “…to work diligently and creatively so that Jamaica may , under God increase in beauty, fellowship and prosperity..”, I remember the rhythm of “…this land is our heritage…ours to make or mar, ours to spoil or beautify, for shame or praise…” I remember being proud… But on that day, my spirit felt low.

My mind could not yield to the apparent reality that all hope was indeed lost….I thought we were on the right track, we’ve finally seen political will demonstrated to tackle the cliques which among other things, contribute to our underdevelopment….a brighter tomorrow seemed more than just a tale whispered in the ear of children before bed…what happened?

Have the prayers of our forefathers for freedom been answered in manifest ruthlessness to our own…are we so independent that we think and effect pure crap?

I pray that God will purge this land and its people of its atrocities, that the blood which soaks our soil will be washed clean along with our hearts, that our mind’s will be kissed with right thinking, that love will prevail…I pray that He makes us whole again and that next year I’ll listen to the strum of nationhood, patriotism, peace and kindness from riverside to the mountain top, from the cane fields to the sea…That Jamaica will once again be a land of beauty, that we will fulfill the promise to serve her with our talents with hands and heart united ..that we will work steadfastly and wisely to never bring her shame…I pray that in my lifetime, our hearts will salute a Jamaica that is triumphant, Proud and truly Emancipated.

Only Thinking

2010-07-13T12:15:00.000-05:00

An indomitable force draws a being closer and closer to certain pleasurable doom…thoughts of salvation though now buried deeper down, reverberate in a head swimming with lust, feelings, the sight of him…woe to those whose minds’ are not renewed, whose spirits’ fight a daily battle to forget the feel, the touch, the smell and the salt taste of skin….Woe to those of weaker will.

An emancipated self strolls still in darkness, veiled…blinkered eyes focus on one thing and one thing only….meeting him part way…. going all the way…looking for the sheath…It seems such a simple cause to win. Can months and years of goodness be depleted by the sound of your name on his lips….one whisper punctures the protective casing.

Walking in the light provides an escape…but free will sometimes breaches the full armour……..knowing the truth… knowing it makes no sense to disobey commandments, break covenants for just a soft kiss…..but sill, the allure of fleeting deep emotion stimulates the senses, overpowers logical thought, plants a seed of sure defeat in the mutiny and becomes a chance your will surrenders to take.

Sin seduced and ripe… ready for the picking….does God creep in then?.....before? Can the heart and mind be receptive at the point of entry and eke out a good result?????

An Eyelash Wish

2010-05-13T16:06:00.000-05:00

I’ve never wanted the sun, the moon, the rivers or the mountain from a man….I’ve never wanted diamonds and pearls….I want him as a partner…all of him;

I’m satisfied with a bloke that’ll try his damnedest to keep this pretty smile on my face, to bring laughter to my eyes and soul, exhaustion to my waist and comfort to my heart;

I dream of a him who displays the fruits of the Spirit, One who puts only God before me…..Someone to submit to…Someone to trust.

My spirit longs to be with a hopeless romantic who showers me with blessings, a rock on whom I can lean. An ambitious him that knows where he’s going, that’s 6 ft tall or more, will settle for 5ft 10” as well:0)…A true man, witty and sophisticated yet rough around the edges…the ability to deal with the bourgeoisie and the proletariat…A man with a kind heart and a patient hand. A pretty smile he should possess, a firm sure hug, a demanding tongue, sweet tender lips, a body that displays his commitment to maintaining the temple given him, a listener, a giver and humble receiver…an air of gentle confidence…this is my wish.

An impossible standard some would say but I know I’ll meet him someday.

A taste of Heaven

2010-05-04T19:08:00.003-05:00

On a flight back to Yard I fulfilled my promise to God to pen my praise for his mercy shown me last week.

With 3 days notice I packed for a trip I wasn’t yet booked on a flight for….In confidence..ish, I had 70% positive thoughts about meeting the requirements for a Government Officer to travel in these aneamic economic times. Another day went by before the approval came and the flight to take me there on the day before the meeting was fully booked….With 2 days to go I found myself tying off loose ends and gathering paper to take along, still confident..ish that I’d find a flight…I did, twas the next day.

To get approval for travel, cause country representation I thought was crucial to regional development, I had opted to assume the cost of Hotel stay for the night before the meeting since per diem etc would not be disbursed by the organizing entity until the first day of the meeting….I figured I could cover that night plus ground transport from the airport and was gonna “thug/yardie out” the meal part…The life of a Civil servant nuh easy…..Anyhow, with this twist to the plan I’d have to find two nights plus at least a meal out of pocket or convince the Ministry to support the one extra night.

In the hustle and bustle of doing the necessaries to fly I left the booking of accommodation in capable assistant’s hands…..to my astonishment, Ministry support was over calculated and they gave me strict instructions to go with and reimburse on return…tentatively I took it all with me. …God is good.

Rushing through the streets of Kingston with an hour to board I didn’t didn’t blink an eye as I bobbed and wove my way through ;lunch time pick-up traffic…twas an opportunity to drop the V6 into 4 and boogie at speeds of upwards 100kmh….Mi get fi blow out di engine… sweet:0)

The flight was good, peaceful mostly and I got good vibes from a fresh and clean youngster but was too preoccupied catching up on my reading to show real interest….half opportunity lost:0)

On arrival at the Hotel I read my print out which stated that “ All monies must be paid in full upfront” or something to that effect….my able assistant had wanted to spare me the hassle of booking in twice and had gone a head an booked me for the 4 nights…..bless her heart. Thankfully I was over provided for by the people of my country so I could easily cover the cost…..God is good all the time…..

In my room showered and settled munching on the Cheetos and Heineken I grabbed at the supermarket on my way in, I thought back and remembered that on Saturday morning I had woken up with Psalm 23 on my mind and in my heart and I had repeated the same incessantly over the ensuing 3 days…it never occurred to me that there was a connection and to be honest I’d been more focused on the “..He restoreth my soul”…part, thinking God wanted me to repent of my daily sins……I was wrong. I thanked God for going before me and seeing beyond my mortal sight and effecting the “ The Lord is my Shepard I shall not want…” part of the Psalm.

I gave thanks with a Cheerful heart on a plane back to for the Lord had opened my mind and eyes to see his mighty works performed for me….God is a Good God and I’m happy he rests in me and I’m committed, despite all my faults, to dwelling in His house forever.

Dreams

2010-04-23T14:19:00.002-05:00

After a long trip into Kingston, on a winding road through the hills of St. Andrew and St. Mary…the peacefulness of the day was evident in the comfortable silence between a man and a woman. With his free hand in yours you trace the pattern of his veins and admire the strength in his wrist and fingers…yes, in a quick glance you capture him in your mind and think…‘he's beautiful’.

A shower after some spirits and a draw of sumpn nice….you wait patiently for him to join you in the bed beside the mirror……through tired eyes you watch his muscular body approach and every sense leaps to life…..its not often a woman happens across that pleasurable mix of good looks and skill, so you were thankful for the opportunity to bend to his will.

A touch of his lips to your inner thigh sent electric pulses through your body and he watches with fixed interest your writhing response….when kisses trail upwards over your hips and navel, the line of your stomach, your neck and chin…your involuntary spasms become more and more intense and brings your flesh closer to the source of your desire…. But still he hovers by your lips to watch you feel him….tantalizing.

With passion burning from the heat of the moment and bodies now drenched with anticipation, the beginning is sealed with a kiss…a long, hard, eruption evoking kiss. You foil his plans as he tries to return to the start and encourage instead a unguided insertion into the path ….the clench and release of your muscles binds him in a spell which coaxes a low, groan from deep within him…you are pleased.

In an unorthodox missionary, the soles of your feet against his hard chest, he strokes smoothly then harder and harder…. and though thoughts of crying ‘Cree’ enter your logical mind, the pleasure of the pain spurs you on to match his every try to pin you permanently to the bed....what strength, what energy…mmmm.

The battle rages on and lessons are taught and learnt, new positions tried and somewhat conquered until sheer exhaustion sets in…..but just when you thought you’d had enough, you catch a glimpse of his firmly formed ass in the mirror fucking you from behind….on his haunches atop your body, he tiptoes in and out of your wet and receptive pussy, training it, working for your untimely release…your loss… his win. It would’ve worked too, had you not insisted that he holds still and watch you work…with each thrust and wine, he shows true grit, standing firm with an ass riding up and down the length of his dick….He ultimately unravels when you whisper, ‘fuck it an’ mass it up’…. And through clenched teeth, his body rigid in release, he commands that no one else be given this chance… ‘a fi mi dis’ he says… and you agree whole-heartedly.

Mutual gratification reached and he collapses to your left, draws you close, kisses your forehead and whispers ‘lets sleep’…twas a day and night well spent.

Being Still in God

2010-04-20T17:15:00.001-05:00

With a cup of mint tea in hand at 5:30 this morning you venture outside to sit for a bit and watch the dawn of a new day….the air is crisp, the mountains, though shadowed by the remnant night, were majestically decorated with rich green flora…..a more beautiful sight a painter couldn’t have conjured.

Its easy in the quiet of a day to ask for forgiveness for the things said and done….to reflect on the only being who offers unconditional love despite your faults….Yes, in the soft light of the morn a sinner is thankful for the present given with a willing heart, a new opportunity to make a start, get things right or at least try…..As the birds begin to sing their own praise, your spirit is lifted up and you’re infused with the knowledge that on this day you will succeed…you’ll not allow yourself to be drawn out of the protective bosom, the insults of rude men who’ve become too accustomed to being on top of their women, will roll off your back and time will be spent instead in storing up blessings in heaven through good works to your fellow man.

Yes, in a seemingly simulated Sunday morning vybe, you opt to try to be a better being and hope and pray that the Lord will commend your effort..Again.

Reminiscing??

2010-04-17T14:54:00.002-05:00

If I were honest with myself, I'd admit I want him...now, in this moment.

I'd admit I wanted to feel him pull me close to the length of his warm body in these cold days and nights.....I'd admit that his coarse hands tracing an aimless path down the line of my back brought me closer to the edge than I let on, that the heat from his breath against my ear as he whispers "come here" sent tingles through to the very core of me....I'd admit he was bliss.

That sweet juicy mouth, those powerful arms and thighs....I'd admit that his very being wrapped in me was intoxicating....his presence, his comfort in me prompted my mnd to drink in all that was him.... from his chin on my head, to the curl of his legs around mine and his finger inches from my lips..... If I were truly true, I'd admit we were perfectly form fitted just sleeping.....

This is how a man should sleep with a woman. The giving of herself to you is a gift to be embraced and held dear ...at least until the morning light, when clarity and good sense returns:0)

Conscience

2010-04-12T14:39:00.002-05:00

In this ordinary day I sit thinking too much on too many things and praying for peace of mind. A few days past a one week visit from Mr. ATL which prompted a lapse in ..."everything"....I'm left to ponder....

How easy it can become to push righteous thoughts to the back of your mind as you pursue the lusts of the world.

When pressure mounts over days and thoughts of bodies locked in absolute primal rhythm dance through a perverted mind…..grinding to that all too familiar beat….the pleasure of a big man treatment to a yearning, hot body…the allure of a “proper sort out”.

And though the signs are clear, and you recognize the snare, the weakness of the flesh manifests in evident control and you place yourself knowingly as prey…..Praying for strength is done as a reflex but sitting in the seat of sinners could only reap a fall.

In a time when focus is placed on the Lord for his goodness towards us, the sacrifice of his son…the devil breaks through your defenses and now you are ashamed to be in the presence of Him who took you out of the mire of sinfulness and placed you on a pedestal, Him who loves you more than you could love yourself, Him who has carried you through….In the light of the morning, its hard to reconcile, to accept the concept of true metamorphosis from flesh to spirit driven.

My sins are as scarlet will He care enough to wash me Again.

Temptation

2010-03-17T11:39:00.000-05:00

On a progressive path for change, faith and righteousness deepening, your breakthrough within inches of your grasp, the devil senses your imminent flight from the fold and unveils temptation to derail, upset and steal your Victory.

The possibility of demystifying the black/white coupling scenar is handed to you with open abandon….a fantasy from your youth here for the taking but the burden of sin is its companion.

Now faced with a choice of wrong or right, eternal happiness or damnation from a blissful night…the choice seems clear to your rational, spiritual self but your loins cannot erase the thought of looking down at his head between your thighs, stroking, licking teasing an eruption...’Yes’ is etched in the evidence of your arousal as he paints a picture of his submission to your touch, your lips, your kiss, your f—k…he’s good for your ego, but….

‘Runaway’ blinks in bright red in the back of your mind and your words even convey the same, but his tenacity is admirable….he coaxes a more agreeable response…Sweet scenes of you exploring him completely, learning his spots as you drag your tongue the length of his 5ft 9’ and 8 inches….slavery reversed as under you he relaxes to accept his pleasurably painful reward.

As the days tick tock by and the embers still burn, your weakness you’ve had to confess to Lord for he is better equipped to weather the storm…but still the flesh wishes to be touched, to be held, to be taught a thing or two. Images of you slowly falling to your knees to urge his release with tongue and lips and hands eager to please…Unholy machinations spiral through your mind with him trailing kisses down your spine, preparing you for entry from behind … Oh the thrill of finally comparing caucasian skill with black prowess, but still…

Your heart longs to be true to only one, the God of your salvation….and if these months of studying the word have taught nothing else its that the battle is not yours, so you turn this one over to Him and await the outcome.

Choosing

2010-03-15T14:05:00.000-05:00

Freedom is calling in the promise of the everlasting …..freedom is calling you.
Freedom is calling in the miracles performed each day to get your attention…the bills that were paid, that tank of gas, water in your tap, bread for the day…
Freedom was bestowed on us all through the sacrifice of Himself…the freedom of choice given us as a gift, to choose or not to follow a God that loves us inspite of us.
Freedom is in finally saying Yes…yes to that outstretched hand, to the voice deep within which longed for the seed planted to take root.

“ Oh that men would praise the Lord for his goodness and for his wonderful works to the children of men” Psalm 107 vs 8, 15, 21,31

Victory Again

2010-03-09T15:24:00.002-05:00

Watching the afternoon turn to evening and night, the sunset burning crimson through the bows of the coconut tree, memories of a former me crept into my mind and deep within I pined for that vibe, that smell, that feeling.

Chilly the wind blew, the tea in my cup insufficient for the battle to ensue..warmth increasingly slipping away from my depths…but still I sat.....

I contemplated the options still, as thoughts of his pillow top pecs and warm soft hands playing gently across my flesh pirouetted in my head…... But then, before harm could be done, sin was averted in the wind’s song in the leaves….the Almighty channeled my energy away from my lions to the tip of my pen…Grace was given me in the midst of temptation and my thanks streamed forward in praise….the Lord always provides a way out.

Ramblings

2010-03-04T16:47:00.003-05:00

Thought I'd live up to the title of my page and Ramble on a few issues:

I was taken aback this week by:

- How much I longed for a hug, to be made love to, the intimacy of a kiss
- - how much I wanted to be under the thatch covered bench at Hellshire resting, soaking up the sea vibe
- how much I wished I had my own successful business
- the fact that I've seemingly shelved my plans for writing that great book
- the slow progression of my life to somewhere...anywhere else
- what it will take to build that fence I need
- how much 1 damn tyre really costs
- the evil that children are capable of
- the mistakes I've made in my life and realising that the worse one was the Player....how could I have been attracted to such a dispicable, insensitive being
- thoughts that transformation my be the catalyst I need for change
- the kinks in my spiritual armour
- my stunted growth

Holding On for Better

2010-02-24T14:36:00.000-05:00

What will a Nation do when its stalwarts have passed away?

Will we find more Nettleford’s, Rhone’s Busta’s and Joshua’s to lead the charge? Who now can fill their shoes?

But how do you motivate a people to rise to the occasion of self, smadification is a long and hard fought battle few manage to win…what propels a people to fight when not only do their young not understand the concept of non-violent protest but are also unaware of the need to mold themselves in forms rooted in ‘weness’ and unconnected with those in the North. How can you motivate a people when their very beings cry out for sustenance…when their values have been crafted from parental love in the contents of a barrel sent every three months…..when their minds have been set on relieving the burden of generational restructured debt.

What will cause them to shine, to look beyond the now and then but to the possible future. A future of sustainable growth, a future riddled with achievements on all fronts, a future where minds think on issues before putting an X, a future of hope for generations to come.

In the balance of probabilities we find ourselves at the end of a tether; a script of great loss of pride and gold medals, of hit songs with no soul glorifying the gun, bling and dancing, confused males and females whose bodies don’t fit pants they’re in, of hostility and civil war in communities, a cultural dilemma, people bravely being scared of life, change… having and using its voice. From whose loins will the next Great Leaders be born?

How does one build a country when the champions have been silenced by time…the spirit of our great talent having been bartered away for another’s reality, a hat hung so far out of reach yet all our energies are concentrated in blindly, relentlessly striving towards that dream….We cannot continue down this path.

In the analysis we find hope in a fine thread of knowledge that in every Jamaican rests possibility…waiting to be uncovered and polished for countryward Victory.

Forgotten

2010-02-15T11:02:00.001-05:00

As blue skies turned to dusk, ash grey clouds barreled in …my emotive self was lulled into accepting reality…this indeed was not meant to be.

The evening tide was coming in now and birds fed hungrily on God’s provision in the shallow…Etana’s “Don’t Forget” filtered through an open window along with the smell of fry fish and bammy….I was fascinated (possibly hurt) by the unexpected end to an unusual deed. The plight of singledom – “yuh win some, yuh lose some….ah suh di t’ing set up”.

Wave after wave of anger ticked by with the minutes spent chilling alone on a bench waiting, taking that chance that the businessman/cop/axe murderer would show up….I’m a simple girl with simple rules for life…honesty being at the top of the list, so opportunities provided to run for the hills having been rejected ought not to have resulted in Waiting. Yeah, I was late..ish, and at first didn’t mind the time alone to steel my nerve, but when the cold wind blew in, and comfortable warmth was nowhere to be found, my innermost sensitive self said @#&% It.

Drinking in the last bit of evening, the work stress still slowly seeping from my body, I watched two boys play in the sand as they hoped mommy would never say “I’m Ready”…..their innocence moved me. Regular people were locked in conversation, drinks in hand, the vibes running high…..but for one missing piece, 'they' could’ve been 'we'.

TRUTH

2010-02-11T17:15:00.002-05:00

Back in the day when caffeine and weed flowed through my veins, I would rush to stretch my imagination to making the tiniest of things, experiences, desires, hopes, dreams, Something. A tapestry of creative poetry and prose would drip like rich molasses from my pen and I would feel alive again and again….. I miss this me.

Back when the devil prompted my thoughts and deeds I would carve out pieces of the day just to express myself in some way…..if this were then I’d share my desire to be more than held, to be kissed on the forehead, to watch him undress…..slowly, to dot kisses down his chest, over his hips, in search of that spot that makes his eyes roll back. I’d weave a collage of tender touches to urge a burning response from some unsuspecting soul.

Yes, if I were the former me I would have captured the cloud covered mountain tops this morning and would speak at length of that day at the beach…. how in the chill of the evening sunset he ran by once, then twice, then more times than I could count. I would admit I watched keenly as he stopped to stretch his overworked muscles…..I would confess that he sparked more than a little interest….but this is not then, and to move forward one has to let go of the who you were, in order to Become.

But a part of me wishes that creative spirit would return; that the block would be removed; that I didn’t care about my part in causing sin; that I could justify my actions in my mind…..but I can’t. I can’t turn back time, nor can I sit on the fence…to follow the Lord one must give up oneself to be Molded, Changed, Set Free….but couldn’t that be with the yearning still to write, to fill blank pages with Some things.

Breached but not Broken

2010-01-25T17:42:00.002-05:00

When I was a child, I dreamed of owning a big cat as a pet....a black panther to be exact. Persons would beseech me to think twice on the subject cause wild animals can never be tamed, even if they're born in captivity...The innate hunting spirit and need to protect territory would erode any attempts at civilizing the big cats..they'd say. My dream has not yet died but I think I have a better appreciation for the ills involved.

I still dream of stroking his chest and tummy and scratching his back on lazy days by the pool while I listen to his deep purr, putting a diamond collar around his neck and walking through the Metropolitan....I read too many Mills and Boon and watched too much James Bond growing up.

I thought of the comparison between Big Cats and Men and the similarities were astounding ..in my mind. If you are sweet to them they muster some sweet sufficient to lull you into a false sense of security that you are and will forever be the one, the only one....they are attentive when playing for the prize and will shield you from all harm, provided it emanates from other men....they make you tea, and snuggle up the length of your body while they sleep hoping to keep you warm....they enjoy the hunt, they play with their food, they have puppy dog eyes when caught in an act....but ultimately, one can never predict the actions of the Cat nor can one have expectation of behaviour or respect....a Leopard can never change its spots.

In life one learns to live, love and hopefully learn the lessons from the experiences. It molds and shapes us into who we are, what we believe the strength we exhibit, but for once I wish a man could prove me wrong and indeed be who you think he is, do what you thought he would, mean what he says, not give you the satisfaction of saying "I told you so"....I've always said a woman should know here limits and my age prevent me from pulling the wool over my own eyes once you slip, you slide.

Little sins after all become big ones....in the end being intuitive and unable to settle is a curse...defences up once again.

This too shall pass

2010-01-15T10:12:00.001-05:00

Sometimes I think God darkens our days, our very existence too, to remind and prove to us that the human spirit will always triumph. A least developed, poverty ravaged country is hit by a massive earthquake and the world responds…maybe every country doesn’t rush immediately to help but the overall sentiment is that they reach out.

The outpouring of help for Haiti is enough to bring tears to my eyes…..“Too little too late”…some crusaders may cry, but when through tragedy countries forget their own situation for awhile and focus on a single good, I can't help but see the silver lining in the cloud of the aftermath.

The world put aside the usual hindrances to progress and a show of kindness, skin colour; religious belief; political leaning; the innate need to hold on to power etc., and responded to the cries for help from beneath the rubble. I give thanks that the quake didn’t hit in the night for surely the death knell surely would have rung out even louder.

I’m heartened today to be a citizen of the world. I am glad I was witness to the power of a mighty God, who destroys and builds up in ways unimaginable. Because I believe, beyond doubt that God on our side, I know inside that like the phoenix Haiti will rise again to face this new decade and win victory……with concrete and steel buildings too:0)

Prayer.....Again

2010-01-12T10:18:00.000-05:00

My Lord…My God

When the principalities spoken of old rise up against me I fail to see you first.
Forgive me.

In darkness I continue to fight, ever striving toward your light….buckling at the simplest of tests…clinging to the feverish cry within of mind induced hopelessness…a lie
Forgive me.

The table prepared with your bounty for me is more than I asked, you have never blessed me half & half….A complete reward stored up and released in my time of utmost need. Forgive me for not acknowledging at all times that in adversity, we are made perfect and you strength is magnified.

Sometimes blessings take forms we never imagine…..hearing the birds sing, seeing a beautiful crimson sunset, wishing the thick clouds which cover the highest mount were sent to rest your weary head upon….Sometimes I remember to give thanks for the blessings seen and unseen….even if its spawned from my weak faith in times of challenge.

For he shall keep in peace those whose minds are stayed on Him.

New year, Old Afflictions

2010-01-06T12:31:00.002-05:00

It’s the 6th day of the New Year, A New Decade…. yet unfortunately I feel as though I’m stuck in the “Noughties”. My head is reeling from anger and disappointment, my system overloaded with the weight of new and increased taxes, the harshness of the livity which is predicted to get worse as the year drags on into the Abyss of Recession.

Wishing for that straw to clutch at, hoping for Grace to see me through, believing it will, but failing miserably at remaining focused on the prize. I’m in a addled state, confounded by incessant Judgment projected at my every turn…maybe they have it right, maybe I’m playing with God?…It should not be this easy to fall….Am I really capable of change?

My heart is cast down in the new born year and its too early for that…right? The promise of a new dawn has always been a source of light…new opportunities to live-up, a slate wiped clean, a more appropriate destiny to be sculpted…Again…A sheath of happiness just within the reach of my outstretched finger tips, mind and soul….Its too early to be Depressed…do I need to have sex???? Will the endorphins explode and calm my frayed nerves, colour my world rosy…be the catalyst for my return to a naughty, empty, elated state.

I have prayed and I’m impatient for full change…If I fall down again, will I have the strength to get back up?? Prayer changes things and in my experience so far it does…

Help me to be quiet Lord and wait for your intervention

Give me peace that I may rest in the bosom of your love and glory
Take my hand so I that I know you're on my side
Cleanse me and forgive my openness to temptation and ugliness
My heart waits for your Grace Oh Lord
In Jesus’ name I pray Amen and Amen.

Prayer

2009-12-08T15:28:00.000-05:00

My Lord, Almighty God, Creator of all things….

I bow before you today as a woman…stripped of all vanity, humbled by your grace....asking you to look down upon me and hear my prayer.

Lord I ask that you bless me completely and that you will never let your light cease to shine on me.

Lord I ask that where my mind and thoughts have failed to reflect your light, that you will remove my sins away from thy sight…

Where my lips have sinned against man, I ask that you listen not to the thoughtless utterances of your apprentice.

Lord, where my heart has been shadowed by unforgiveness, I ask that you will touch me and make it pure.

Where my hands have offended thee, reaching for forbidden fruits, I ask that you take my hand and lead me…

Where my feet have taken me down a path you have not ordained, reflect not upon the errors of my judgment.

Lord, your majesty has been told from sea to sea, you are God alone without whom we would surely perish…Guide my mind and soul Lord as I learn you ways…..help me to always incline my ear to your Spirit and not resist, to remember the lessons taught, to be thankful for your daily gifts.

Your mercy endureth forever, Lord, and I ask that as I falter on my journey you will never leave my side…help me to open myself to be used by you, as you will.

Help me to be kind to all.

Still my flesh and the venom which rises in me too readily....Give me clarity and discernment Lord, so that I can live your plan for my life.

All this and more I place before you as my wants, knowing you will not fail to supply all my needs. In Jesus’ name I pray Amen and Amen.

Openly Private Considerations

2009-11-25T17:31:00.003-05:00

Outside in my chair, looking into a dark blue sky adorned in the majesty of droplets of heavens glow and an ivory crescent moon, I relaxed in God’s glory, creation. I won’t lie, my thoughts spun like a top turning the last two weeks or so over and over in my mind, thinking too much about a few not too good men and a bredren.

The night was cool with a soft breeze cupping my face and thighs……it was an excellent setting for thoughts to be provoked.…aaaahhh, its been a while since I’ve felt the lazy enhanced synapse instigated by herbal refreshment.…..

Issue #1

Two Friday’s ago I called in a hug which I had really wanted from Wednesday of that week. It was 9 ish p.m. and I was on my way to house sit for a friend ….my body builder was on the way. Twas a wonderful night and my ultra sensual self escaped from its cage….but nothing would happen, of that I was sure ( I didn’t want it to). As I stepped in for my hug and secured my thigh between his….I whispered goodnight and felt that knee jerk squeeze around my waist as my hot breath danced across his ear…another aaahhh moment.

After a drink, some chat about news and football, the odd reference to my thighs in shorts and my own less than holy thoughts when he emancipated his chest from it cotton confinement to feel the night’s cool……the curve of those pecs, shoulders like a rock and that strong sculpted back…..I asked for a pose to show off his lats and couldn’t help myself as I traced the outline of each with my tongue on my way down to his hips….. to lick the line from the top of his ass to the nape of his neck….he smelled great too, Axe is actually a sexy product.

So it went, me teasing him and him tentatively returning the favour. The ground rules were set, no sex, and we enjoyed the night nibbling and tugging at nipples, dragging our tongues across each other’s flesh, kissing…I never took time out before to realize that he was a hell of a kisser. Exploring non-penetration satisfaction, we were not disappointed…in the end.

I pulled the sheet over my head, ready for sleep, he opted to stay up for the Would Cup playoff fest that was scheduled for the night and morning. Stirring at 2:00 a.m. I thought fleetingly about heading to my own borrowed bed, but then I felt his arm encircle my waist, and heard the even breathing of a resting giant….he looked so innocent and sweet...so I curled up and decided to capitalize on his vulnerability. We slept well and were out early the next morning to get fruits, for me,a burger and coffee for him…..it was nice, I had all but forgotten what really being with someone in the morning felt like….I was at peace in that moment.

Issue #2

Boogie is a car man. So when the edict regarding the E10 gas was handed down by the government, and inspite of me I put it in and could’nt get my baby to get up and go when I pressed the accelerator, I sent him an e-mail to ask what the heck. …we chatted online about the virtues of E10 and possible solutions to the loss of power most people experience with its use, good dialogue all round I thought.

Over the four days which followed he rambled in my mind a few more times than I would want to admit…I missed him….I missed making love to him, I missed being in his arms and his kisses on my forehead.

Being blue over the rebellion of my heart against the dictates of my brain, I was hurt when we almost crashed into each other on Sunday. He was pulling onto the main road to the Mini stadium and it was my right of way….thankfully my bumper and his fender did not meet and he proceeded to wave me through as if I were just another female driver, looking to do harm…no hi, no smile, no how yuh do? This notwithstanding, I thought after the match he would pass by to properly hail the I….but not even that…nutten…It hurts when you find you’re no longer in someone’s heart…Mi did vex bout dat.

Issue #3

First love called to inform that his Divorce was now final and that we should stay in touch???????

When the devil set fi yuh, him set, but victory is mine, of that I’m sure, so for now I’m chilling.

Thoughts

2009-11-12T14:55:00.003-05:00

When I was a child I wanted to grow up to be a broadcaster....or more specifically, the lady who read the news. There was something about Leonie Forbes, Erica Allen and Fay Ellington that screamed out to me to emulate.....as I progressed through High School by the grace of God, juggling the roles of teenager, mother, big and little sister, home manager and sometimes wife (more in the Marxist sense..nutten gross) I thought more about owning my own business where I wouldn't be answerable to anyone but me and could slip away for a beach run every so often without it being a problem........I would sign many documents, shout a bit, have sordid love affairs and drive a fast car (thunder bird I think).

Throughout the ups and downs of my youth one thing remained fixed in my mind no matter what I thought I would "grow up to be"....the fact that I would designate a day each week to take my mother shopping and have lunch and just shoot the breeze.

When I got my job out of UWI I felt sure that I would fulfil this promise, albeit in a different kinda way since she was in Florida mostly...I was convinced I could find a mechanism despite the no visa obstacle......I'll never forget the pride in her voice when I told her I'd gotten the job and where, I'll never forget that she continued to send my likkle much even though I was now working....there are many things about her I won't forget....

Later that same year when she finally let on that she was really, really sick and wanted to come home, I started thinking of a two bedroom flat for me and her, I started thinking that this was my opportunity to take care of her...I was sad but happy to be able to do for her what she had always done for me even from a distance......Nine years ago today, after speaking on the phone the day before about my plans to fly up and bring her home, she died from a heart attack caused by a blood clot from the ovarian cancer which had engulfed her body......Nine years have passed since I've heard my name on her lips, 9 yrs has passed since my world crashed and my heart broke never to be repaired.....

Twas an in between hectic day, but always in the back of my mind was the significance of today's date...Now, with the work lull taking effect I can't help but remember that I never got a chance to repay her.... to take her to lunch or shopping...I never got a chance to shower her with gifts just for being my Mom...I never got the chance to watch her watch me grow older and wiser....She was a star in my heart and I give thanks for the time I did have, but can't help wincing at the thought that one more year will again go by and my heart will break anew each time.

Loss

2009-11-04T17:21:00.003-05:00

Last week I learnt a valuable lesson, how to forgive someone I didn't even know, and how to pray for God's richest blessings to fall upon their lives.

On Thursday I got home late, and its funny I spent a wonderful evening chatting away with a bredren, eating Cheetos and drinking water. When I got through the door I noticed that my dresser drawers were open.....being older however and knowing the loss of memory that occurs at this age, I wondered whether I had been the one who'd left them open...unlikely, but still I wondered. As I removed my earrings and chain, a routine action for me as soon as I get in teh door, I was alarmed at the empty clanking sound they made against the ceramic jewelry chest...huh???? Looking down to see the lone pieces swim around in the container I got cross, angry and scared....I was robbed.

I played the morning over in my mind including the decision not to wear a particular piece cause it didn't fit my outfit...I thought long and hard but I couldn't recall not securing the place before I left.....darn....as I reasoned away the reality of the robbery with the fact that the radio, HDTV birthday gift I'd given myself and the $9000 which was hidden under the innards of the Bath and Body Works gift set on the dresser were still there, something deep down still yelled...I've been robbed....But how? There was no sign of forced entry.

I accepted my reality relatively quickly and began to thank the Lord that it wasn't worse....that I had been spared, that they weren't still in the house:0) I opened my mind to the thought that material things did not matter in this life and that the Lord gives and takes away.

I had a restless night but I slept and awoke to a bright beautiful day.....as I dressed for work however I couldn't help but lament the loss of one piece in particular, a gold chain my mother had given me for finishing my degree at UWI...one of the last things she gave me before she died.....tears came to my eyes.

Losing something precious in sentiment like that was hard, and in the days that followed I prayed for peace. On Saturday I called out for God to bless the person(s) who'd done it. I prayed that they be increased beyond their wildest imaginings. I thanked God for giving me the opportunity to give to them in that way, cause if that was what it took to feed my brother for a coupla days, then so be it.

Sometimes when life happens we let anger take over and miss the lesson....I could've chosen to carry my rage with me like a banner, but instead I felt it better to ask for divine help in dealing with the matter....I'm glad I did, and though from time to time my heart breaks when I think about that necklace, I am strengthened by God's grace and I let it go.

Give thanks continually for it could always be worse.

A Mystery

2009-11-04T17:19:00.000-05:00

Why would God create humans to serve him but allow them to turn their heads away?

Why would God make us in his image forever clamouring for his affection but still bestow on us the treasure of free will?

Why would my Lord allow the Devil to tempt us knowing that we are powerless at times to withstand the test of our faith, even though at times we are rooted and grounded in the word?

Why would a loving God allow us to fail at trying to be good knowing that our conscience is innately skewed to skepticism about his forgiveness of our sin, why would God place in us a rigid inability to forgive ourselves, knowing that this lack more often than not leads to even further sin?

Why would he give me so much for me to destroy with the weakness of my flesh?

Why would he keep trying with me when I continue to fail?

Reflection

2009-10-23T16:49:00.003-05:00

In another 7 hrs and 13 mins I will no longer be the age I am and I'm left to ponder (as I often do) the value added by the year.

For the first time in my life I am happy to see the time tick away cause I have gained this year a better, more meaningful relationship with the Almighty. No longer will I review my list of new year resolutions and have to circle this item as "undone". More importantly, this yera has taught me to say no to the trappings of this world an dthat its not as hard as I'd thought (nuh get mi wrong...it ruff.....but with divine help its easier I think).

33 yrs old and I'm just learning the value of hope, trust and faith in the Creator....I'm a slow learner but I'm confident I will get there in God's time.

Welcome 34 and the abundance promised.

Joy and Pain

2009-10-20T11:06:00.004-05:00

Family is a blessing....when one can stand in a room and see three generations of family..its a blessing of the highest order. I spent Sunday evening watching my God-daughter play with her cousins and friends as we celebrated one more year of her contribution to this world. Seeing siblings and couples relax in the cool night air and friends labrish about their children's latest achievements brought warmth to my spirit and though it twas not my blood family, I felt blessed to be a part of teh mix.

From Grandma, to my best friends mom, who had always been one of my heroes and a true representative of that fighting J'can woman, who raised 6 kids without much support from their father, a woman who one would be remiss not to say well done to. I was happy to just lyme away the night watching the light shine brightly in every child's eye, untarnished by the harsh realities of life....in listening to their shrieks or giggles as they tried to eat the snow cone faster than it could melt..failing ultimately, I was reminded of a better time, a time where your trust was unwavering and the only cares you had was waking up in the morning...Youth, oh how sweet.

My only regret, as I saw little Jordan join in the fun, was that we were one less, and I reminisced as my friend's brother treated the crowd to a head top dance, living up to the good vibes we had gotten accustomed to seeing from him and Ratty at these family gatherings...We were one less, and I think it hit home to everyone as there was silence from most of the adults as Demarco's"Fallen soldier" began to play in the background.

Live, love and enjoy life fully, we only get one go round.

Everything in life is a Process

2009-10-16T09:16:00.001-05:00

Friday night I encountered temptation I couldn’t overcome….but I lasted ‘til Saturday. Saturday was ‘roughfa’ though…my commitment to breaking my flesh cold turkey came to a head 4 months since my decision to not fornicate and the further acceptance of the fact the masturbation too is sinful pon a moral level as well as in a direct sorta way through it opening of the mind to lust (nuff people nuh agree wid this but a suh mi feel).

As I battled my thoughts and aching body with prayer and the odd scripture I had somewhat memorized, I felt control of self slip further and further over to the darkside. From dusk ‘til dawn to the silence of almost twilight, I toiled…I tried…… And no doubt it was presumptuous sin when I gave in, for fear of my absolute implosion, to the yearning and did the ‘lesser evil’ of self help. Twas not enough, so a second and third round was aimed at adequately removing the monkey from my back…twas still not enough. Sin begets more sin.

Frustration, anger, sadness, weakness kicked in and I found myself reasoning with the Spirit to spare my sanity for I was not strong enough….the recommendations he made fell on deaf ears and I made a call. Ordinarily once I’m home, I like to stay in, worse when you sometimes hear the stories of people who left their homes in the night and were struck down….death has not yet lost its sting for me….But I showered and left nonetheless, driven by the promise of release.

I mustered sufficient restraint initially, chatting over conch stew and football, being careful not to let the gentleman go back on his word to look but not touch. I was doing well too, until I caught sight of his wide smile, smokers lips, half open eyes, hair trailing down his stomach to his groin……he was sexy. With focus on the subject drifting farther and farther from my mind I decided to test his control…my jeans and top were removed with surprising ease, as I watched his smile turn to lust before he covered my lips in a kiss… I had missed kissing him.

Things escalated as they often do with too many hormones in one room, and his hands on my now damp skin were teasing sweet moans from the recesses of my throat. Aroused and whimpering I asked him to break his bond…he refused for my greater good, my commitment which he was more committed to seeing me keep than me, in the moment. I’m pretty versed in some of the safeguards from the Lord but the Devil was with me that night, and though I recognized I insisted. Anger rose and we joked seriously about the implications of my continued stay, that fact that I could genuinely call him a whimp who would let sumpn hot and ready slip through his hands.

Vexation and frustration made us part ways temporarily as he stepped outside for a smoke and I flipped through porn channels for stimuli to quench my thirst. When he returned to the room and commenced surfing the net, my ire grew greater and thoughts of leaving played in my mind…but that would have been too easy. The battle continued and somewhere in there I asked for forgiveness for going this extra mile in sin (causing another to sin) but by that time I was twig about to snap….he gave in.

In the morning I woke to see him on a mattress on the floor, and wondered whether that was his remedy for not repeating the error. A sweet thought of changing my position to hang my hand over the bed’s edge to rest it on his chest fleetingly rambled through my mind….but instead, I felt scorned (maybe from my own guilt but definitely scorned) and given my continued emotional ineptness, again anger rose. As I washed up and was about to get dressed to leave before he woke….his voice interrupted the still of the morning and I saw red. My clothes were replaced almost as quickly as I’d taken them off and his explanation was less than logical….to me…guilt is a bitch.

With the crisp morning air against my face I turned the radio off and listened to the companion angry roar of the engine as I made my way home. Kudos to him for not letting my rudeness prevent him from calling to see if I was in…I couldn’t go to church later that day.
One of the things that carried me through the 4 months break was the tactic of reading a verse or two or ten, in times of insistent temptation….it occurred to me while I was in my struggle, but somehow never took root….My question then is “Will I ever really be changed…am I beyond redemption?”

Birthday Wish..ish :0)

2009-10-14T10:41:00.000-05:00

There are days when the flesh and mind are weak and thoughts of times past, comfort sought and found in unholy arms, play on rapid repeat in every tissue of your body. I miss being in love; having sex; having great sex; seduction; unwinding to slow sensual jams; exhaling.

I pray that the Lord will kill my flesh and break my desire (until he sends that good husband my way). I hope for better cause with God there is always better…..my logical mind believes this, knows this to be true, trusts that it will be done…..my infirmed flesh however, longs to be caressed…

If only I could shut my conscience down for a weekend (preferably my upcoming birthday weekend which I would love to spend in a hotel without any cares in the world), and in that time benefit from the best love making of my life, where intimacy runs rampant, juices flow from just a touch and satisfaction is unquestionable. Not sure if I mean this, but very sure that I am frustrated beyond the breaking point.

This and That

2009-10-05T17:32:00.003-05:00

Last week was a learning experience...In bible study class I was reminded of why I didn't quite appreciate Church Folk; funeral was Saturday and that took a lot out of me; and I missed enjoying the rainy Sunday morning under the covers.

Church people are sometimes hypocrites and this was borne out on Wednesday as I listened to the speaker mock and the congregation laugh at the beliefs of Rastafarians and Muslims. While I don't claim to be an authority on the bible nor do I think my relationship with the most high is greater than any of my brethren, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of disgust as they laughed....I don't recall Jesus laughing at anyone even the gentiles....I don't recall him preaching that we should chastise our brothers for their alternate views but instead to seek with all our hearts to educate them, I remember reading how he asked the Samarian woman for water, something that no Jew would ever do, I remember him putting the solders ear back on after one of his disciples chopped it off....needless to say I was not pleased with my peoples......

The funeral was preceded by a set up at which we made the best of our time reflecting on Ratty's life and using his example to prescribe changes we would make in our own lives recognising that time is too short for a lot of foolishness that we allow to intervene in our happiness (like a 9-5 job, or not spending enough time with our children) it was a long night. At the church on the Hill we paid our last respects to the man that was, and I was fine until a slide show of who he was as a father and policeman started playing, and then I lost it somewhat as I watched clip after clip of him and his kids, his bredrens made happy by hat magnificent smile. All was getting back to well as I listened to the JCF Choir (who were pretty darn good), then his sons took the stage and I admired the eloquence of the nine year old as he bid good morning to the clergy and " all other protocols observed" to the rest of us. Sadness began to rise once more as I thought about the fact that he would now grow without the care and direction of the father...and I was doing really well until he reminisced about going to the beach with his Dad, questioning God for taking the "best Father in the world" and the fact that he would have to be the light for his little brother to keep the memories of his father alive in both their hearts...I lost it then.....I was not pleased. After paying my respects to his wife a few of us got together at my girlfriend's house and we lymed and drank our sorrows away.

Sunday morning I awoke groggy but committed to going to Church since I had asked the Praise Team to do a particular song for me that day. They Did and it was worth my missing out on spending the rainy morning wrapped in my sheets watching time drift slowly by....it was a day of rest and reflection as well....RIP Ratty, your smile lit the hearts of many.

Devaluation

2009-10-02T17:04:00.004-05:00

In a previous time in my life I spent way too many hours working...I was in Office by 7:30 most mornings and out by 6:30 or 7:00 p.m. on good days. My friends would chastise me for giving my heart and soul to a government job....but I, because it is my work ethic, gave my all for the greater good of self and Nation.

Today the reality of my situation walked up and slapped me in the face. My eyes are now open. I now know that it matters not the sweat you put in when no one's looking, they still will judge you by the 5 Sick days and 2 Departmental days you've taken for the year. Your commitment is measured by the fact that for the past three months you've recognised that woman was not meant to work 10hrs a day and you try to leave work at 5:30 p.m., your few (very few) long lunches define your entire year and insult is levied when you submit your vacation leave form and your integrity is questioned relative to the number of sick and departmental days your used up because "it seems" you were absent from the job for more days than that.

Its been a while since I've been ANGRY...today I am struggling with two emotions, anger and hurt, cause my accuser should have known better....should have know that you come in at times sick, because you know there are only 3 persons in the very busy Office..that person for whom you've taken your fair share of hits despite your junior Officer designation, tehy should have known better.

As I sit here this evening, still working to meet today's deadlines to ease teh pressure come Monday, I am forced to re-evaluate my situation, to pray for that one business idea that will guarantee my security for life, that idea for a book that will be a best seller....for any straw I can clutch at to uproot myself from this unforgiving Unit...I've had ENOUGH.

Maybe papa Bruce have the right idea to redundant some a wi cause if my contribution can be belittled in this way, imagine those among us who represent the typical "government worker".

Prayer seems far from my heart in this storm, prayer seems very far from my heart, but I will try.

Love is Lovely

2009-09-28T08:46:00.003-05:00

First thing first...let me apologize to the West Indies cricket team for turning on the tele, seeing they were 85runs for 1 wicket and deciding to kick up my heels with a glass of coconut water and watch...clinging to that thread of hope that Saturday would have been the day that our "makeshift" (this was how a BBC reporter described them) cricket team would prove their worth to the world. ......It wasn't.

My humble apologies lads and supporters for any bad mojo I might have brought.

Secondly, I wanted to stop by here to bless up everyone and wish for you all a lovely day and week.

"What's gotten into her"? You may be thinking...and the answer is simple...today I am filled with the glory of God.

I sat in church yesterday having awakened to a beautiful morning, where birds sang loudly and the breeze rustled through the leaves of the almond tree out back, a morning where my body felt 90% better and my mind was at rest, a day when my older brother surprised me with his actions...proving that there is indeed a God and he does answer prayers...a day when I felt God's spirit in church as I worshipped and gave thanks (to me he appears always in the form of a light breeze...I know it sounds crazy but it is what I believe it is). So the love in me is overflowing today and I wanted to share it with all my peeps...Bless up.

Gonna hit Tagged and Facebook and maybe even Myspace now.

Never Question the Big Man

2009-09-24T15:43:00.005-05:00

Tired...Drained...Weak....overall diagnosis...Unwell but recovering. My questioning of God was rewarded with illness and a trip to the hospital for emergency treatment Sunday night...endometriosis and lack of faith are a near lethal combination. I survived though, by the grace of God....and coconut water to lower my blood pressure.

I'm giving thanks today cause it could always be worse. Thanks to a pleasant..ish Dr and really nice nurses at Andrews Memorial Hospital - I was wheeled in and managed to walk out (upright) two hours later...My sistren cheered me on and was like a little 'ill-health Gnome' as I writhed in pain, waiting for the combination of "good drugs" to kick in....she was funny and I give thanks for people with a sense of humour....Thanks too to the policemen we met at the gas station buying coffee and Magnum Tonic Wine, as I treated myself to a little sweet...not a laughing matter, I found the energy to chastise the lot...Thanks to cable TV which was my refuge as I tiptoed in and out of sleep for two days and caught a few good programmes....Thanks for 24hour days, any longer and I would be writing a different kinda blog (one of these days I will learn how to rest)....Thanks to coconut water which really works wonders for relieving the blood vessel bursting pressure behind the eyes and up the nape of the neck...Thanks for sick days.....Thanks for life.

"In everything give thanks for it is God's will in Christ concerning you"....Thessalonian 1 5 vs 18

Melancholy

2009-09-18T09:00:00.004-05:00

Sometimes the circumstances of life overwhelm, discourage, and ravage your spirit sufficient to let you border on questioning the Big Man.....As I walked into my Office this morning the friendly groundsman on whom I can always rely for a smile, gave me a bright good morning and a note that "life goes on"...how true it is too.

Yesterday I got bad news about my best friend's adopted brother...he died. 37 yrs old, leaving wife, son (18mths) and other son (9 yrs old).....a heavy drinker and all round good time guy, no saint by any stretch of the imagination, a non-smoker, diagnosed with lung cancer three months prior. When I heard of his illness I bowed my head and lifted my voice, hands and soul in prayer for him to survive cancer, to not be stripped of the joy of watching his children grow and transform into men, the way I watched him. I prayed that the Lord would show me through him the strength of my mustard seed faith, I prayed hard and long.

Technically, it wasn't the cancer that got him in the end but a chest infection brought on by the macho facade of the Jamaican male which convinced him that though having undergone surgery less than 6 weeks ago to remove the affected lung, and bolstered no doubt by the Drs determination that he didn't even need radiation treatment, he could chance a run to the car in light rain with it not penetrating his superman shroud. He was wrong. Now two boys are left to remember their father through pictures in a family album.

I must admit my faith was shaken and I even possible was cross to think that I trusted God to deliver him from cancer and this was result. I was broken and I prayed and asked why? Was my prayer found wanting in some way, was I not specific enough? WHY? Then a friend whispered to me that"...God answers prayers according to his will."...so I have concluded that he did answer my prayer and delivered the yout from the clutches of cancer but there was other business between them that I could not have foreseen and rebuked.

Life Goes on, according to the will of God, we are powerless in the game......RIP "Ratty" beloved father, husband, brother, bredren.

I am happy today is Friday, and that tomorrow will close this week's chapter of death.....RIP Trevor Rhone as well...I remember badly acting out a scene from Old Story time for literature class in 4th form...A true representative of the spirit of Jamaica is no more.

I wish for all who read this a blessing today and forever more...life is too fleeting for us to take lightly, give your lives to the Lord before its too late and love and live fully for you know not his plan for your life.

Kinks in my Armour

2009-09-16T07:51:00.003-05:00

One thing I like about my new life is the ability to spot the Devil's antics from a mile away...yesterday I was feeling lonely, unloved really, and I prayed to God to show me that I was loved. By midday I checked my e-mail to find an epistle from Boogie reminiscing about me and him....how we would have spent the rainy day Sunday...you know, the good stuff.

I was actually pretty cool with the e-mail and responded with like comments but was sure to point out that everything and everyone is in our lives for a reason and a season, ours had passed. The lessons from it though I think I will always remember but, there is no doubt in my mind that my deep feelings for him have passed.

The day before I received a call from my body builder and he was very clear on what he wanted from me and how.....He brings a smile to my face though cause I know he respects my choice anyway and wouldn't jeopardize our friendship by forcing his will on me, afterall, I did tell him not to focus too much energy on me because of my commitment to the Cross. So I am fresh out of options for Hugs cause he has been upfront with me that it would not stop there :( Its a pity, I could use a good one, topped off with a kiss on the forehead...what can I say, Boogie spoiled me with that stuff so from time to time instead of physical intimacy, that's all I need.

I won't pray today for the hug though, the Devil may overhear and devise my downfall and at this point I cannot afford to be moved.....mi haffi gwaan hold mi Order.

A Father's Gifts

2009-09-11T17:46:00.002-05:00

“The Lord is my Shepard, I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures; He leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul...”

I’ve always been a praying woman and I’m thankful that my upbringing was grounded in God, albeit against my will at times….Yes, unfortunately it seems my attendance at Church growing up was done under such duress that I was not receptive to much more than the foundation principles of Christianity...they are what I clung to in the past, and are still the rock on which my faith is built today.

By now you all know I find beauty in simplicity, so “Our Father” is still the prayer I say most nights and Psalm 1, 23 and 121 are the passages which resonate most with me…simplicity.

Two days ago I saw a drawing of a hand protruding through the clouds with a rose for a lone girl sitting on the seashore…..it was an aahh inspiring experience and I hoped that day that God would give me a rose……and he did....When I got home I picked the last Julie mango on the tree…twas sweet caaan done, and I gave thanks and smiled most of the rest of the evening.

Last evening I thanked the Lord for two more gifts…one on the side of health, as I’ve been awaiting the results of tests for the past coupla weeks….the Lord kept my mind occupied and my blood pressure reasonably stable throughout the period and I promised Him I'd stay chaste if he delivered good results. On "D-Test Results Day", He gave me a song in my heart and on my lips and enough work to consume my every minute before my appointment….this was good......the results weren’t great but they weren’t the worst and the knowledge was quite liberating…so I lifted up my hands in thanks.

On a leisurely drive to my father’s house said evening I reflected on the Grace given me and I was at peace. When I pulled up to the gate I saw that the painting which I’d wanted to complete for a few weeks now was finally done….It made my heart swell to be so blessed..so I sent up praises again to my shield and protector, the one who gives me rest.

The concept is simple…be faithful to Him and he will be faithful to you and bless you abundantly.

Trust

2009-09-08T16:08:00.005-05:00

A buddy on Tagged sent me a beautiful embed yesterday and it took my breath away. T'was a simple picture of a man sleeping on his tummy and his woman sleeping on his back...bodies perfectly formed together in trust...her trust that he will support her completely, and his trust in her to let him do so.

The image unravelled me somewhat as I wondered whether I would ever be capable of reposing such trust in anyone but myself....she seemed so at rest. Currently my journey with Christ in my vessel has been rocky, fraught with obstacles both man made and of evil principalities....my road has been rough and unassisted by my innate flaw to guard my control over self and surroundings selfishly.....Giving In...it seems such a simple thing, but still I procrastinate.

Ordinarily I don't wonder about the Lord's abilities but sometimes I reflect on whether he knows what he has gotten himself into with me...will I really make it? When thoughts like that enter my head I think about the fact that he has never left my side, even when I was more than unholy....I think about the numerous times he touched my heart and I said no, I think about how gracious he had been to keep on trying despite my sins,....So when I am overcome with thoughts of not making it, I think about the lesson of the stone that the builder refused, and how same became the corner stone...and I am comforted.

Now when I am engulfed by doubt I thank him for where he took me to in order to raise me up and where he will lead me if I just trust him to direct my every path even when the controlling I in Me blocks my resting in his safety....he will not give up on me so its the least I can do to keep on trying to keep his commandments.

Big Up All Di Bredren Dem

2009-09-04T16:09:00.002-05:00

I watched a big silver moon raise up in the sky last night....a Smirnoff Apple Vodka and tonic water drink in my hand and a beautifully crisp, cool night...and I reflected on my earlier conversation who I now accept as a bredren.

Being easy with someone is a blessing...we spoke about 'politricks', expecting the worst at all times to avoid disappointment in life, women's sensitivity when they catch their man ogling another woman's ass, we spoke about the main bits and pieces of our lives 3 weeks prior and the virtues of free weights muscle building as against the weaker muscle toned by machines...a concept I'm beginning to agree with.

We talked on and on about the miseducation of the J'can youths by the dancehall Kings whose messages we feel should convey "guh tek yuh book suh yuh nuh haffi pack bag inna di supermarket and get vex wid people like a dem mek yuh idle out yuh future pan di streets"...we were particularly hard on Vybz Kartel cause he's actually a lot more astute than people would think.....we spoke about everything and nothing and it was quite liberating to be this comfortable with a dude I'm not fucking, anymore.

Of course initially the odd reference to our hot bodies passionately connecting and connecting entered the conversation with pointed reminders of how sexy I am and how hard his body is...But I suppressed the images of his naked torso and strong arms while crossing my legs to quell the rising fire there and was successful in remaining focused on friendship....which is too a blessing.

So I tip my hat, I curtsey to a bredren who was there when I needed him to be just that...give thanks.

Praises to the Great I Am

2009-09-01T08:28:00.003-05:00

A clear blue, cloud streaked sky greeted me this morning as I dashed off to work....how pleasant it was to sit in the car park and send up praises to a God whom I wish I could be as faithful to as he is to me. The knowledge that through all things in life God will be there with you, never to leave your side, always to seek one sheep which has strayed from the flock, always to keep his promises unto you as he did Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, never changing...T'is empowering.

How can I let Him down....He's so good to me.

Lust

2009-08-24T08:23:00.002-05:00

Its been a while since I’ve placed a man's hand in my lap and aimlessly traced the outline of his fingers and palm…lovingly, tantalizingly. Its been awhile since I’ve taken his cheeks between my hands and looked deeply…almost lovingly into his lust glazed eyes. Its been a while since I’ve hovered my lips within tasting distance of his lips and felt the heat of his ragged breath or just….wait for a kiss. Its been a while since I’ve felt that quickening of my heart upon sight of his big bare chest, or the tingling in my groin as he delivers a firm first kiss….Today, with rain threatening outside, sleep willing me to return to bed and a fire in the pit of my stomach that I cannot extinguish, I am again, down on my knees.

My prayer however is not to stay my two feet that I don’t run off to a willing soul, but that I could help myself to minimal relief….masturbation was a dear friend to me, and now I cannot muster forgiveness of me if I partake…cause its reeeally been a while.

I miss pinning him to a wall spreading his thighs with mine and grinding my hips into his growing excitement…I miss feeling his firm hands grasp my waist, holding me in place…I miss a man responding to my antics. I miss watching the look on his face as I guide his hands under my panties to my wet, hard clit…begging him to…squeeze. I miss my mini faucet-like response. It has been a looong time….since I’ve felt his rushed hands strip me naked, fumble to put on a condom and spread my thighs to deliver 8 hard inches of hot, thick pulsing flesh….its been such a long time since a man has nibbled at my nipples, rubbed his dick between my breasts, kissed my lips with the remnant juices from my ……

Its been a while.

Its been a while since a man has demonstrated his power over me…its been a while since I’ve been made to submit, to moan oh shit when his dick touches the womb unexpectedly… to look forward to more and more….its been a while since I’ve had to place a hand between our bodies to ease the force of his thrusting…its been a while since I ‘ve benefited from the further force that action elicits (really, really miss this)…its been a while since I felt that growing crescendo which prompts lude, cum provoking nothings to escape my mouth…God its been a while since I’ve really been fucked.

I’ve heard it said that no sin is greater than another, but deep down I don’t believe, cause murder, adultery, fornication and white lies, cannot be weighed similarly…..the habit of lying one can dispense with in a heartbeat, fornication and adultery knock constantly on your door however, and takes a lot more than heartbeats to dispel…and murder, to me, is the mother of all sins, for it is hard for me to believe that the Father and the Son would treat lightly with this sin which destroys a being for whom their love flows eternally….all sins cannot tip the scale therefore with the same recompense…….as you can see, the Lord has a lot more work to do in me…but I shall overcome....eventually.

Who I am - Jamaican

2009-08-21T09:02:00.000-05:00

The Blood which flows through my veins is that of a fighter….the blueprint of what’s at the heart of a people…and though I’ve not blazed a trail of meaningful accomplishments to trail behind my name, the mettle that resides in Bolt, Powell, Walker and Frazer, also lies latent in me and indeed all Jamaicans.

Through my veins flows, rich thick history and pride, and it matters not where or how you began in this life but that you worked against the odds to claw your way out of the mire of poverty to achieve greatness.….The blood that flowed through Marley, Marcus, Nanny, Edith Allwood-Anderson also flows through me and veins are pulsing with fight…fight for what is right, fight for survival, fight, fight , fight rushes uncontrollably to my brain, through my limbs, into my heart and I am filled with hope, that though our present seems darker than ever before, my spirit has hope that were will make a bright future….. because despite externalities, we have the fight and God nah guh mek him people suffa fi much longa.

Yes, the same blood that keeps alive dreams in every ghetto youth, every barely making it single parent, every scholar, agitator, creative soul…it flows through me and I will rise and shine and greet the day with confidence that Jah neva fail and my country will soon be lifted from the ashes into the stratosphere of prosperity and be the number one place to live and raise families.

BLESS UP JAMAICA

Leaning on the Rock of Ages

2009-08-20T16:52:00.002-05:00

Pedestrian designed concrete tiles paved the way over a bridge which connected the two sides of the expansive pool, and a coconut tree saluted path to a white sand beach. Aaah…..A narrow track, with lush green grass (don’t ask me how in this drought) on either side, signaled your separation, finally, from the hustle and bustle of the general vacationing population.

Though early in the morning, I was not alone :( I found my spot, saw a lizard scamper into the coconut tree nearby, and changed my location, no need to tempt fate. I settled in to send up praises to the Most High, surrounded by the natural beauty of his creation. I’ve always loved the early morning time, you get to hear and actually feel nature....its good.

As I thanked and blessed, praying too for wisdom and understanding of the bits and bytes of a new subject area I’ve been running from trying to ‘get’ in totality, the comforting breeze whistled around my head, and I appreciated my Father's response with my eyes closed, mind fixed on Him and body and soul at peace. Oh how sweet it was to be in the presence of his Glory.

The skyline was breath-taking… a hint of ash blue sky caressed the waters edge…. straggling clouds were stretching lazily to join together and find real form...twas enough to soften the hardest of hearts, and I was thankful that the Lord had touched the powers that be to start the Retreat session a little later that day.. .. a carefully negotiated victory having ended the previous day’s session at 2:00 a.m.

I didn’t care too much about how I got the time, I was just elated that I did, cause I had at my disposal a clear two hours before resumption and could wade in the water, read a couple verses and tiptoe back to my room before the breakfast crowd really got into swing and colleagues could catch sight of my sarong and bikini clad sexiness:)

On my back in the deep blue, I floated and prayed for the Lord’s mercy and grace and continued protection from the devil's Mignon's which seemed to accost me from all sides….during the work session, thoughts of a certain Player under my thighs and bound by my web of pleasure occupied my mind intermittently. The fact that he had his hands full with the other females in the room (twas like watching a kid in a candy store, unable to choose which sweet to try to take), was a blessing in disguise cause I couldn’t really manage another 7 years of bad luck from coveting again a gold banded being….Then, no sooner had I reined myself in and under control, my trips to the restroom and at times just to get a breather from the heated tempers which flared over issues thought more important in the national interest…I was met with beautifully buffed, ripped dream bodies…6 ft and up, mellow sexy languages pouring fluently from their mouths, inspiring thoughts of whether their moans and groans were also done in a foreign language….the scene was too intoxicating for a recovering addict such as my self. I was on the brink several times, even at Lunch and Dinner when the beautiful beings were clad in wife beaters and flip flops, or cool cotton shirts….I was downright at risk.

Noting my loosening grip on self, I turned to the one weapon proven to work in these circumstances, the Bible. I read passage after passage and begged for forgiveness and strength to keep me through the duration of the Retreat without my fate or chastity belt falling. It Worked:0)

Appreciation

2009-08-18T15:47:00.003-05:00

Though I love the contrast of dark chocolate skin against my cocoa brown, there's something about some Brownings that really get me hot.

The built dark skinned male represents that primitive interpretation of a man. Him standing 6ft 2", naked, his rigid big dick in his hand, the works of art his curving biceps are, bald headed, lips invitingly thick, pink tongue, a goat-T beard...raw sexual magnetism.....damn he's sweet. Combine all that with confidence in self and his abilities and he's quite a treat.

Every so often though, my eyes and the erectile tissue of my nipples are stimulated by the sight of a honey gold Browning.....every so often I take a moment to admire his....perks. Cherry lips, smooth quiet confidence and sometimes light brown eyes is enough to make me wonder the inches that lies beneath, the hug of his jeans. Let's also not forget the fact that with the right words, you can make his cheeks crimson red...how powerful a feeling that is, the ability to also place a hicky brand on his chest.....its nice sometimes to mark your territory....is just s cherry topping too.

In my experience I've found Brownings to be very sweet inside.... though capable of great anger as well....the single most endearing quality though, is the inability to respond quietly to my probing, teasing tongue. Yeah, a Browning will make you put on some ole school soul music and bump and grind the night away...then in the morning you get to see the remnant of your session on his chest, his shoulders, his back.....

With the rain pouring outside today, my fight for control last week as I observed toned, muscular, tanned shirtless bodies, lie on the beach and poolside at the granbahiaprincipejamaica.com Hotel trunks hanging low on the taunt waists, torsos begging and screaming for you to taste, dark brown or pink nipples, picturing your tongue teasing the outline of his tattoos, nipping and tugging at the spot where his moans seem to get louder(and that's everywhere).....aaaahh the brown sugar male body in motion is truly tantalizing.....a girl almost couldn't keep her righteous Order.

God is standing by.so hush and be comforted

2009-08-10T12:51:00.002-05:00

Today, the purity of love flows through my veins, mind and soul. I would draw the world close to my lips and plant on everyone a kiss, if I could.

A beautiful dream unfolded last weekend in my mind.....I was wrapped in safe arms on a blanket...wrapped in love, warmth and protection, and I had no reason to fight anymore....kisses rained down on my forehead, punctuated by soothing whispers of I love you's...a channel filled with deep sentiment formed in my heart, a long time lovers' net of comfort which restored my spirit and made me give in to trust in him, knowing that his feeling toward me will never change.

Sometimes we get jaded by baggage from breaks-up and makeups or playing and winning the game, and we forget that man and woman were not meant to be adversaries but a unit...one being, which when joined, populates a world with love.....Lets stop playing for a day. Let today be the day you show love....let her know she's a treasure and that will lift her spirit, and she... my dear friends, will make yours soar.

In the presence of God

2009-08-03T08:47:00.002-05:00

I sat and waited on Saturday......waiting for my God to reach down father than my hands could reach up...and I was at peace.

Under the ackee tree, I gave thanks to a mighty father who knows me more than I know myself....I thanked him for sticking around despite my failings. I was surrounded as I whispered my prayer, enveloped, wrapped in his arms by the cool breeze which filtered through every pore of my skin, and I felt blessed.

I sat immobile, and felt the long week of battles fought...some won, some lost, tiptoe up my spine and into my shoulders, rushing to be released into the wind. The stress of everday life, my interaction with Boogie which stirred up sentiments and thoughts of whether we had done the right thing, all conspired to test my faith, and I knew the battle could not be fought by me, so I called upon the keeper of my faith and I was at rest.

I gave thanks, thanks that I was one of the chosen to live for yet another day. Thanks that despite my circumstances my trust in my Lord and Saviour continued to grow..albeit haphazardly. Confident I was though, somewhat, that soon there would be a seamless transformation of me. I gave thanks that God was not like man, for I would have perished long ago if he had the hard heart of my brothers and sisters.... if he counted my mishaps against me. I gave thanks that it was another weekend for recovery and replenishing of spirit.

As the sunlight pierced through my eyelids beaming down a promise of blessing, I felt my shoulders sag into relaxation...aaahhh. I was as light a cloud, remembering the beauty of the Budgie which stopped by on a limb:0) and as I listened keenly to natures silence, I was interrupted by a toiuch on my thigh..... reality kicked in and I decided to send up praises from the safety of the great indoors rather than to fall prey to the reptiles which plague the canopy above.

For Edification Purposes Only - trust me

2009-07-27T08:48:00.003-05:00

As I continue to wage war with the forces of evil which lie within I have developed a strategy which aims to keep me free from absolute damnation, at least for the time being. I have determined that sex is a big sin...my hunger for same and the ungodly thoughts which are a part will continue to engulf me for the time so I will, in order to not have sex, punish those who read me here instead of putting my thoughts into action.

That said, an issue occupied my mind on Saturday - Do Society Men Know how to Lay Pipe?

I mean the 21 families of Jamaica types and their darker complexion though equally hoity CEO types. Don't get me wrong, every girl likes the perk of being with a man with means- the status , the lifestyle, the honey gold complexion children. They provide whatever the image of wealth is from time to time, whether Range Rovers in the driveway, the Norbrook residence, Tea at Terra Nova to show off the boob job done in Cuba to the girls, a snapshot of you and him on Page 2 of the Jamaica Observer, whatever the status symbol at the time. But can they satisfy that raging hunger in your core...Can they touch the root of you...Can they FUCK?

I know they can rock your body like the ebb and flow of the waves with a touch of the lips and tongue...I know they can play a good game and intrigue the mind, sweeping you away in a whirlwind of seeming interest (sometimes to your delight)...but can they use the windowsill, wall, settee arm, stove handle, anything handy to get the leverage necessary to dumb the dick so deep inside you, you scuffle visibly and in your mind with the feeling to run from the pain or stay for the pleasure...Can they FUCK?

Can they throw one leg over their shoulder and balance with their hand at the back of the other knee and slide in inch after glorious inch of pulsating flesh into your core, urging your volcanic response...Can they Stand up to a Hot Pussy?

Can they give your ass a couple slaps before almost breaking your back to position you and riveting his 8 inches into your six, touching the womb and then tell you to wine on it? Can he make you wet enough to even attempt?

Laying pipe is an art that it seems a man has to either be born in poverty, or the lower middle class to inculcate. A certain coarseness of spirit and hands is required that the middle and upper classes would never expose themselves enough to hone.

Can he rub his dick across your face as he watches you suck his balls?

Can he get that scowl on his face when he knows he's doing a good job and has you on the brink of a breakthrough, knowing that he himself is about to break, can he stop himself from letting you win by thrusting even harder in?

Can he tief a piece pon the road side on the way to country or, if you're really lucky, pond di roadside inna town with all the external threats to his and your person? (Exciting). Can he handle the police if they happen along?

Can he touch that spot while you're flat on your stomach and jab until you scream fuuuck, and then, can he sen'-on one or two more inches just to prove his point, while commanding you not to run ...can he fuck out your surrender?

Can they? Can they really?

I was tempted to put a poll at the bottom of the page to get a real idea on this one, but I doubt I have very many none male readers, and every Jamaican man thinks he's a cocksman (despite class borders) so the picture would definitely be distorted.

Not Business as Usual:(

2009-07-22T08:41:00.005-05:00

My commitment is waning, but I go on.... it didn't help the other night to go out to a late dinner in Port Royal. Call it the moon, beautiful star filled sky, the sound of waves lapping the sea shore, but I was intoxicated, and it proved almost disastrous for my faith.

A bredren, who my stubbornness and his had placed at odds as far as the East from the West, bit the bullet and sent me a text "I miss you...". A weak girl can't withstand that kinda pressure, and knowing him to not be the type to 'give in', he melted my barrier.

I left work at 7..ish and we met at 8:30..ish....damn he looked good. Golden brown skin, arms bulging, cigarette separating long skillful fingers, his locks of hair beneath a simple black cap...he was naturally sexy. I like to drink him in mostly, he is so striking to me....jeans hugging, accentuating worthy package:) and a shirt that testifies to the hard work done in the gym....he was all man, and for the rest of the night, he could be all mine...the prospect was....exhilarating.

I like this bredren cause we always seem able to talk....quite naturally....there is no emotional issues between us....he's not my man, I'm not his girl, we rarely see eye to eye on issues but, we can always meet in the middle...surrender to 'done di argument' in the interest of bredrendom....he's my arm candy, and I love the attention he gets when we're out.

Over steam fish and steam bammy we chatted about the month past, what we were up to, a possible Reggae Sumfest date and the follies of the West Indies Cricket Board and the Players Association (WIPA)....a little celebration of the Australia loss to England crept in as well, Usian's 7.89 in pouring rain....Church and current affairs too, though I lack the constitution for meaningful discussion of these issues, its depressing especially the imminent return to the IMF.

In general, it was pleasant. A wholesome and irie vibe, until we went for a walk on the beach..... I've always been fascinated by the sea at night, moon glistening in the water, the odd fish or two leaping out to catch a glimpse of dry land....oh how I wish I could paint. The tantalizing allure of the darkness, a blanket to your actions and the wind and waves a mussle for your moans...its a good place to be. We talked about the ill-fated call which led to our taking a step back, he accused me of being too feisty (with a smile) and I decided to show him how rude a girl who had'nt been touched by a man in almost two months could really get.

The cool summer night breeze on my face, his firm tongue in my mouth..my cold hands seeking warmth in his pants, his hands groping my ass and breasts.....nipples set free against his hard chest, our temperatures rising....his fixed gaze as he fell to his knees and unbuttoned my jeans, it came down with surprising ease (thought I 'd chosen the right gear to avoid a situation like that:) Now, mostly I like to serve, but with that kinda treatment I relaxed in my role as receiver....with focused eyes he seemingly stripped the remaining fabric cover from my V and tasted the lust drenched flesh through the thin cotton. Hot red blood raged through my veins and goose pimples created a blanket on my skin......I wanted him.

In the back of my mind I heard the Holy Spirit whisper.."Stop my Child"...but I was unable to comply...how easy it would be to lay back and just watch him feed...I've been a good girl thus far, why couldn't I be his treat....my thoughts rambled wildly as warm juicy liquid flowed willingly from my core. My knees went weak when in response to me he covered my clit with his tongue and lips...teeth brushing the tender mound ever so lightly.....Could I really just give in? Another thought tiptoed across my mind as if not to disturb the moment....Could I just lay back on the sand and let him lick me under the moonlight...despite my doubts, despite reason, could I just succumb to the dark side...again?

Before I could decide he held back....." I just wanted to taste you"...and I was convinced that the Spirit had saved me from myself, through him. How great a God we serve.

Good Morning

2009-07-16T08:14:00.004-05:00

I paused this morning to give thanks and praises to the most High, Jah.... King of Kings, Lord of Lords... and its not Selassi I Rastafari...its the God of Moses, Daniel, David and Solomon.

In a rare moment I greeted the morning at 5:30 a.m. and headed to the great outdoors. Birds introduced and welcomed my presence with song, the bows of the coconut tree swayed ever so slightly in the light morning breeze and I was blessed with an ash blue sky, peacefully washing the land with hope. Aaahhh, such beauty...and because I have delusions of grandeur, I believe it was all done for me...to show me the mighty power of a Creator in whom I should repose absolute trust.

I spent an hour basking in the glory of it all, and watched as the light rose over the hill tops. With a whisper of good morning to God I headed inside to sate my need for fried dumplings, and callaloo and saltfish.

I encourage you all to give thanks to the father today...there must be one thing that you can give thanks for. Have a blessed day.

Weekend and more....update

2009-07-14T08:49:00.003-05:00

West Indies lost the Test:(

On Saturday I awoke with a very lazy spirit and the remnants of the headache the day before...it wasn't a good day. I twiddled my thumbs at home for as long as I could, but set about hitting the road to avoid yielding to my impure thoughts and temptation of the flesh....where was I going, who knows, I just needed air. On the 'driveout' I decided to hit Portmore to see if my God-daughter would oblige me with a smile and a hug...she didn't hug me but she smiled and it warmed my heart:)

Remembering my longing for fish and bammy on Thursday, we decided at 4ish to head to Hellshire for a dip....it was one of the most refreshing trips I had ever had. The white sand, salt water and energy of J'cans at leisure was just what my mind and soul needed to replenish itself.

There was little temptation on the beach, not too many hard bodies around (Thank God). We dipped and chatted and played with little miss until our bodies were saturated and then we played some more. The beach was much too populated so we opted to stay in the water until we were signalled for our meal. The fish, as usual, was fried just right, the bammy too and the pickle sauce, hot, spicy and ...mmm...mmm...good.

Sunday was spent fighting the usual demons but I was fortified by my church service in the morning...one of these days I hope to be as happy as the people in church, you know, those really grounded and rooted in God's word and love...its a happiness that I envy, but I know one day it will be mine.

On Monday I decided to be the early worm, cause the phone simply rings too much when work is in full swing for you to really get significant work done. I got in at 7 a.m. and completed a task I started late Friday, e-mailed it, and decided it was time for a little tea break (balance is critical in life). I settled into checking e-mails and the perfect opportunity for my hug and kiss on the forehead walked in....Thankfully work intervened but the thought danced whimsically through my mind.... I didn't want to send the wrong signals, cause I think we're back to a good enough working relationship, but he was right there, well sahven and looking pretty tasty....I weighed the options and figured I was mature enough to leave beg the hug and peck, without complicating issues....I'm a lover at heart, a sexula, sensual being and these weeks without a tender touch from a man were wreaking havoc on my sensitive spirit. I gave in to the vibe, and spent last night repenting cause I liked it... Sigh.

I'm still horny and dreaming of sweaty bodies moving to an innate pulsating rhythm, a man's tongue tasting, licking, lashing every contour of my body, breaking only to hear me beg for more..... but not as much anymore. One of these days I'll learn control.

Blah feeling

2009-07-10T14:40:00.002-05:00

My head is still splitting in two....I think I would be open to a hug and squeeze and a kiss on the forehead right now.....I promise not to rape the man who delivers it....really I do.

Reflection

2009-07-10T11:15:00.004-05:00

I woke this morning with a headache and the usual longing below to be ravaged by Mr. feel Good (whoever he may be). I have sent up prayers to the Lord for a good, well built husband, who worships God and me only, cause mi nuh tink mi a guh mek it pon dis journey without one.

I've been wound up of late so yesterday, though seeds of a trip to Hellshire to have some fried fish and bammy, were planted in my mind, I opted for an early evening at home....alone. I took an hour to chillax from the day and listened to some inspirational tunes on Love 101 while sending up some praises to the father for my safe journey through Mountain View on the way home and in general, requesting a blessing on the life of each of my family members. Afterwards I was still a little tight physically, and chanced that my body would survive an intense workout to remove the excess energy and the other kinks, while battling hwat I hoped was not H1N1.

Stretching and straining, building muscle and thinking too much, I powered through an hour and was exhausted enough I thought for sleep. I was wrong. I couldn't seem to depart from my thoughts unholy.... I want sex...I know I can't have it, but damn, I want me some.

As I stared up at the beautiful sky, draped in the remaining soft yellow glow of the sunset, the irony was not lost on me as I took spoon after spoon of couch soup under the ackee tree (for what purpose would I use the added energy????). My dilemma notwithstanding, I settled my mind through prayer and nature and all was quasi right with the world.

Serious T'ing

2009-07-09T07:35:00.002-05:00

An issue has been on my mind of late, and I feel its about time I deal with the matter frontally.

Chris Gayle, Ramnaresh Sarwan and Chanderpaul can kiss my West Indian fluffy ass. What the heck. They barely scraped through the England and Indian series mounting scores that sunlight cup school boys could surpass and now they have the nerve to be complaining about lack of payment...for what????

Like every Caribbean being, the sport of cricket is not just a game, its life blood. Nothing compares to the roar of the crowd when a strong batsman at the top of his game takes his crease, the stand off between bowler and batsman, the threatening gazes when he is hit for four or six, these images, this sport, is the glue that binds us together as a Region.

Cricket when played well can be the only thing that matters on a Saturday or Sunday. In fact I remember missing some of sixth form because Cricket was on. The Mighty Viv Richards was at the helm at the time and a rich pool of talent in Richie Richardson, Courtney Walsh, Brian Lara, Curtly Ambrose, Keith Atherton, Kenny Benjamin, Malcolm Marshall , Jeffrey DuJon, Carl Hooper, the icons of Desmond Hanes and Gordon Greenidge (the list is endless) played backup to his mastery. I have led many a friend to the pleasures of Cricket, and as I grew I looked forward to chilling at home with friends, a bottle of red wine, cold beer in the fridge and a pot of curry chicken with dumpling and bananas bubbling on the stove top. Endless analysis was offered but nothing compared to the togetherness we felt.

No doubt then, I have been a fan of West Indies Cricket for many moons. To see my team held to ransom by players who on a given day could not guarantee even a run before getting out, unceasingly inconsistent top dogs, because of money, I am angered and disappointed. Particularly Chris Gayle continues to be a mercenary player who seemingly only performs if the price is right, and even then he fails more often than not. Who are they to demand money from the WICB, they have not earned their pay for many a match now...how about instituting a dollar per run system, maybe then we could get a decent total out of the lot.

Frig the stars, lets pull some youths from the regional cup tournament or our local curry goat cricket squad, they surely would do no worse than these demi-gods we pander to at every step. I'm cheering for Bangladesh next series...Frig them all.........Now them mek mi sin, mi haffi guh pray 'bout it, but I had to get it out.

Appreciation

2009-07-08T14:54:00.003-05:00

Though I love the contrast of dark chocolate skin against my cocoa brown, there's something about some Brownings that really get me hot.

The built dark skinned male represents that primitive interpretation of a man. Him standing 6ft 2", naked, his rigid big dick in his hand, the works of art his curving biceps are, bald headed, lips invitingly thick, pink tongue, a goat-T beard...raw sexual magnetism.....damn he's sweet. Combine all that with confidence in self and his abilities and he's quite a treat.

Every so often though, my eyes and the erectile tissue of my nipples are stimulated by the sight of a honey gold Browning. Every so often I take a moment to admire his....perks. Cherry lips, smooth quiet confidence and sometimes light brown eyes is enough to make me wonder the inches that lies beneath, the hug of his jeans. Let's also not forget the fact that with the right words, you can make his cheeks red...how powerful a feeling that is, and the allure of placing a hicky brand on his chest.....its nice sometimes to mark your territory.

In my experience I've found Brownings to be very sweet inside, though capable of great anger....the single most endearing quality though, is the inability to respond quietly to my probing, teasing tongue. Yeah, a Browning will make you put on some ole school soul music and bump and grind the night away...then in the morning you get to see the remnant of your session on his chest, his shoulders, his back.....

With the rain pouring outside today, my fight for control last week as I observed toned, muscular, tanned shirtless bodies, lie on the beach and poolside at the granbahiaprincipejamaica.com Hotel...trunks hanging low on the taunt waists, torso begging and screaming for a taste, dark brown or pink nipples, picturing your tongue teasing the outline of his tattoos, nipping and tugging at the spot where his moan seems to get louder.....aaaahh the male body in brown sugar motion is truly tantalizing.....a girl almost couldn't keep her righteous order.

Down but not Out

2009-07-07T16:21:00.003-05:00

As much as I tried the other day to stick to the staright an narrow, I yielded to temptation...in a way. I weighed the evils in my mind and engaged in the lesser...I called Mr. ATL. He was a deacon at a point in his life so he was no stranger to my confused ramblings....he was a bredren, he let me vent, he understood that he was chosen because he could not reach across water to touch. He dusted off the usual words of comfort he would offer in counsel to Church sisters in times gone and was a comfort to me.

We had extensive dialogue on subjects pure (that was my only stipulation) and I felt heartened that he was not upset with me for watching his number light up my phone repeatedly without answering 2 months prior. He understood that I was no longer available. As time dragged on and we updated each other on each other's lives, I asked if he had replaced me yet.... My ears were not prepared for the "almost" which was the answer. My ego was shot initially but I understood in the end.

I was a little guilty for my thoughts and whispered a word of prayer for forgiveness. How sweet bredrens can be when they remain just that.

Down on my Knees

2009-07-01T17:35:00.004-05:00

On the verge of a break through, skipping stones in my mind asking myself if I really want to shine, want to be lifted up above my circumstances and into a realm of consciousness which surpasses the physical, the material…the livity part of life.

Notions of subterfuge ramble in my head. Oh how I wish I hadn’t said come in, cause then I could stick to my usual plan and fill the loneliness in my heart with the tender lips of a another man. But I did, I did say yes and now I am bound by the tenets of generations past, tenets which forces me to remember Gethsemane.

And though I try to fill my psyche with pure love for my neighbour, coveting, sating that raw need in me with someone else’s someone still finds space in my heart….Am I beyond help then? Never that, I know, for he promised he would make me white as snow, he promised to help if only I should call upon him,. And I do but at what point does repetitive falter become presumptuous sin? At what point will he harden his heart and ears against my pleas? Surely the prospect of losing him as a friend is much greater than any worldly need I could have to test his faith in me.

Oh though I wish I were the old me, cause then even the words I type now wouldn’t appear to be blasphemy. I am disappointed because I have shamed him already in my heart with these thoughts. I have lusted after the flesh, I have sinned in my words if not my deeds, I am ashamed for I judge, when he has taught me not to judge, I have not kept his temple holy.

Even as I stir from my bed at night begging, pleading with him to give me full insight into his plan for my life, I cannot shut down the thoughts of a kiss the morning after, a hug, an intimate touch, a suck…I cannot beat these images of well built men, willing and able to please me, into the recesses of my new mind…

Oh hear my cry oh Lord and let me stand firm in this time when the wicked rise up against the I....when my flesh is weak, when all that I think about is feeling the electric pulse of body heat... Order my steps Oh Jah, order my heart, order my mind..lead me.

A Retreat to avoid Surrender

2009-07-01T10:26:00.002-05:00

Sultry, seductive does he know his effect.

His proximity spirals me into thoughts ungodly…forbidden fruit is soooo tasty. Successful attempts to ignore his presence are whittled away by his words….simple words, said with such cocksure authority that it .... stimulates me.

Further test comes in the form of forced close interaction, a mandated action,…..I lay the foundation that nothing will happen…I convince myself thereof even as the words trickle weakly from my mouth into his ear….resolve diminishing. My statement evokes disdain and is summarily dismissed…damn he plays well. A battle of wills, and while he has no qualms whispering gentlemanly nothings in the open observance of the crowd, I sit rigidly, fixed in my mind that I will not reward his attempts with a flinch. I survive, just barely, as he notes the warmth emanating from my body, through my trousers and his, against his thigh.

Machinations of him writhing under me, my tongue charting a map across his chest, down his stomach, over the head of his dick, seep deep into my consciousness….I am uncomfortable. Thankfully, the session begins and we are plunged into thoughts of nation building….saving me from the demolition of my worthy feather barricade.

In the end, amidst the ill fate of an edict handed down to finish the job in time outside of the current forum, I am once again thrown to the wolf….so yet again I try to establish perimeter defenses and launch a mighty coup...an offense, I thought. I paint a picture for him, one which underscores my lack of faith in his ability to satisfy me, wholly, completely….I hadn’t expected that he would see it as a challenge…..damn it . As usual I am successful at not achieving victory against this very worthy opponent.

I am saved soon after though, he disappears and I hang back and strike up conversation with an easy target….men like to talk about themselves, and I have found it useful at times to let them wow me with their accomplishments…does it impress me? Sometimes….but ofttimes not. On my way to the car, my folders in his hands, we talk of his past and present work fires…..Across the car park I see him and he sees me, an acknowledgement occurs…though very chilly???

I pray to my God that I will survive this unfortunate week ahead. My derricks will be set, ready for a victory against the temptation of his flesh.

Dreams

2009-06-30T17:50:00.002-05:00

Ordinarily, I don’t dream. When I am frustrated by one thing or another however…….

Like potters clay my body is molded to fit his form. His weight upon my chest is nothing, all that matters is the tantric pleasure he delivers. Soft hands dance across my flesh, cupping my breasts, spanning my ass, kneading my thighs. His tongue awakening nerve endings and stimulating my soul while thoughts of what I did to deserve this sinful pleasure tumble through my mind.

I fight to grab hold of me but I lose, and relax under his probing…..With a call he had beckoned me to his bed, his request simple, “Can I make love to you?” Six words woven together….a profound tapestry, and which woman doesn’t like the sound of her name on a man’s lips. As he approaches the door, I step back and drink in the sight of him, his presence, that smile. I fight the urge to have him just stand there and flex, nothing would have pleased me more than to see his body on show, just for me…at least for that night. In wife beater and jeans, barefoot, smoky…he was beautiful.

My approach was welcomed as I took his cheeks between my palms and brought my mouth down to get a taste of his. His immediate response was…unmistakable. Hypnotized by his bulging biceps, the cushion of his chest, the hint of cologne, the power he represented, I placed my trust in him to make me feel, and I knew he was equal to the task.

“I want to taste you.” Five words was all it took to un-dam the river.

As usual the first strokes of his coarse tongue on the pink, wet, delicate flesh were too intense… and he held my hips in place as I tried to wriggle free and up the length of the bed. “Stay”. A muffled threat, the “or else” needn’t be said.... Hungry he seemed, devouring and unwrapping the gift with expert ease. Each thrust in and out built a roaring lioness' groan but my climax was dashed each time for he wanted to prolong the wanting. Watching and waiting intensely as I rose my hips to meet his Cheshire smiling lips….Frustration sets in.

“More”, a low whimper, a plea really, escapes me and he cools the fire with his breath, blowing, soothing….I descend only to be hoisted once again. On the third attempt, when the abuse left swollen labia and clit I held his head in place….the power table shifts. I coach him with rotating hips, slow circular thrusts… "don’t fucking move…. let me fuck you” a whisper intended to eek out my full release.

I am afflicted by spasms and he doesn’t relent…a fight ensues to rip his pleasure trove away from my body...... “Ssstop….tttoo intense”. Him nodding no sends thrills to the pit of my stomach and another eruption charges free…I am spent. Convulsing uncontrollably, I flay my hands wildly until he shows mercy and leaves me be. Quivering, the heat from his hovering body teasing my nipples, I fight a losing battle for control again….Aaaaaaaaaahhh.

Limits

2009-06-22T15:46:00.003-05:00

A woman should always know her limits. This is the most critical element to your satisfaction in life. Whether its how much cream to take in your coffee, or inches you can handle...know your limits. For me, in sex its simple.....I like a man who sacrifices for my pleasure.

Because I think I was dirty, nasty slut in another life:) I tend to like my sex nasty mostly. You know, sweaty slapping bodies, nibbles and bites that just break the border of bearable, the smell of juices, saliva on and in every crevice, name calling (but for bitch), role playing and in general visual stimulation.

I like the sight of a black man's big dick, but I know I my limit is eight inches with two or so inches of girth. I know I like:

- being on top, on the bottom, on my knees, on my back
- being taken from behind in 6 inch heels with fish net panty-hose
- knowing that someone is listening to my groans and vulgar utterances
- tasting my juices on his dick
- hearing him moan, not like a bitch, but those little ones that escape him inspite of his tight grip on self ( that really turns me on - it makes me know that the pleasure is mutual and that strokes my ego, simple really)
- getting fucked in front of the mirror
- watching him do a strip tease, muscles rippling, his chocolate brown skin glistening and that pretty smile
- being teased to the point of utter frustration, this makes me more than wet
- searching for his sensitive spot with my tongue...wishing I could over power him, just once and have him feel how I feel when he teases me so

I like a man who fights the urge to lay himself down, bending instead to my will to look up at his face as I suck. One who caresses the bulge in my cheek with sweet force, a man who is attracted by my big eyes looking up at him with complete and absolute lust. A man who shows me in certain terms that I make him hard...no fluff, just unadulterated wanting, a limitless being when it comes to being pleased by the flesh, a maestro who knows that a woman does her best work resting on her heels. I like a man who knows that I like the weight of his dick resting on my face as I lick his balls and possibly his ass. I like a man who accepts that I am "touchy-feely" and will not mistake my caressing his body in the afterglow as an invitation to ravage me again, or to come into my heart.

As you can see, there are several things I like but there are two things I can't handle....watching him trying to be my buddy and a man who confuses the slutty me when his dick is pleasing me with the me outside of his bed.

All Things Bright and Beautiful

2009-06-18T17:15:00.003-05:00

I enjoyed my weekend at the beach so much in my last post that I went back for a week. Aaaahhhh.....the blazing sun, the ash gray skies, on more occasions than our white guests would have liked, and the alcohol.....my new found drink is a Lime daiquiri...mmmm. I've never really appreciated the smell or taste of white rum, for a myriad of reasons including a father who didn't know when to say when, but DAMN...that drink is good.

Mi bruk out pan di beach, sang the nighttime bond fire songs with zest and zeal and learned how to "cock it, cock it, cock it up gal" (the dance...dirty minds:) Yep I was once again fancy free with my sister in tow and a girlfriend too. It was great.

The eye candy was wondrous and I learnt how to appreciate built bodies of different hues. One guy, unknown to him of course, teased me the whole week and were I not a sweet, trying to live right girl, I would have made my advances, but, he and his girl seemed quite into each other so I chilled and just admired his body on the odd ten or so occasions. Once, having jogged to the gym, sweaty and completly out of breath...I hate cardio...I bounced through the door to see him and the gym instructor who, were it not for his height challenges, would have also been a prime candidate for me...in another life.

The hymn "All things bright and beautiful..." played over and over in my mind as I soaked in the image of his dark skin, sweaty T, arms and chest bursting from the self inflicted abuse of the free weights, and I thanked God, the cycle machines over looked the tennis court instead of the ceiling to floor mirrors which gave me too inspiration to conjour up images of his body really pumping.

Now, this girl has been good for a good while or so, being hard up would have been more than an understatement, but I trusted myself to be good. I got into the zone very quickly and blocked the sound and thoughts of him out of my mind. My focus was so great that I barely heard when the instructor asked if I was alright....having noticed my eyes tightly shut and my legs rotating the pedals of the cycle like a possesed amazon being...Damnit, he broke my stride. I nodded breathlessly and he handed me a bottle of water to replenish my lungs and thighs.

Stepping away from the unit, to stretch for my second round, I glimpsed the Herculean arms from the corner of my eye. Mmmm...mmmm good, I thought as he effortlessly curled what seemed to be at least 40 bounds. Fleetingly, a thought of him on top of me and my lungs being crushed for a more pleasurable purpose, but I returned to my bike...now there was more than calories from the buffet at lunch that I needed to work off.

I lasted a mere 30 minutes and gave up when I couldn't feel my thighs and butt anymore. I smiled at the attendant and thanked him for the help and sustaining fluid and headed for a clothes change to hit the openish sea.

With a one piece on and a sarong covering most of me at least, I took the 20 steps to the beach. It was refreshing. I hailed my sister who was hoping to squeeze the last minutes of sun that remained and we had a swim and chat while while watching a few men watch her melon like chest bobb up and down to the rhythm of waves. Men are shameless....a feature I quite admire.

While the poolside filled with hungry being to be fed, and the local version of a Cabana boy came milling around, we packed it up for the evening and headed into the Bungalow for a shower and change. Its amazing how the vacation you abhors the thought of lengthy fabric clinging to your body. I opted instead for a simple dress, short but sweet. Accenting my curves and shaving a few years off my appearance I thought....I was ready for the thrills of the night.

Dinner was good....Hotels I find have a plethora of salads and protein to choose from...I was in heaven..ish. I couldn't shake the vibe of wanting to be in a mans arms, feeling him holding me tight and it didn't help to see couples at every turn. Grudgeful and badmind, my sister told me
and I agreed wholeheartedly.

With sustenance in us and an idle spirit to appease we sauntered over to the bar at the far side (the real adult section) and were entertained by the twisting mystery wiles of Storm and Hurricane.....lets just say that I now know why old men will always choose young girls. I soaked as much of the positions, gyrations and general expertise an had to concede that while I was sure I could out manoeuvre the Storm and win my man with intellectual mind games, she could in one felt swoop trap him each swing of her well shaped hips. The bitch.

.......

Innocent Vacation at Home

2009-06-02T17:36:00.004-05:00

At the bequest of a dear friend last weekend I got some well needed R&R at the Royal_Decameron_Club_Caribbean-Runaway_Bay_Jamaica....it was great resting for a change...real rest I mean and at a reasonable US$70 double occupancy and $140 single Occupancy (resident rates) it was easy on the pocket.

We listened to the interpretations of Bob Marley's "One Love" by more than tipsy visitors to the island, we ate fruits and vegetables with the odd piece of pastry here and there, there was no ackee and slat fish though (bummer) but it was fun.

The sun burned brightly in the morning blue sky and the sea breeze was heady in the night as the waves crashed against man made reefs.....it was beautiful. Yes I would have preferred sharing the moment with a red blooded male who could teach me a thing or too as we explored and blessed the quaint cottage without fear of being heard, but there'll always be a next time. Who knows maybe I can find a man I can trust to not make the weekend all about sex, and one who will be strong enough to not let my Evelike character lead him into temptation and ultimate destruction...yeah right. It would have been nice though to sit and watch the sunset with a good bredren in whose arms I could curl up and relax and do one or two tequila shots, and simply exhale.....ah well.

We went to greengrottocavesja.com and learned a little about the WhiteWitch of Rose Hall but nothing compared to the simple chillaxing on the beach. Our stop at the Ultimate Jerk Centre was good too...talk about real Jamaican jerk chicken, not "pan foul" it was delightfully hot and spicy and the bammy and festival hit the spot. Sometimes it pays to vacation in your back yard, there's so much of this beautiful island I've not seen. I am heading back next week and I'll tell you all about it:0)

Strange Things are Happening

2009-05-28T17:49:00.003-05:00

This morning while sipping my tea and praying that my faith would be strong enough to make today a Friday, I heard on my most favouritest station in the world these days "Love 101 FM" that persons were killing Albinos in some country beginning with a B and selling the body parts to people in Tanzania for purposes of witchcraft...."a wah dis Faada" People are so confused these days. I realised then that there were greater things in this world for me to pray about so I whispered a small one for love to be returned to the hearts of men.

On another note, the Player tempted me yesterday and I resisted...why?? Cause he's a married man and I am so not doing that anymore. If I were though I would fly to the ATL and get me some good freaky dick. Also, there's something about him that makes me feel less of a woman and that's unaceptable....we had a talk about that and he chastised me for reading too much into his actions, but my gut rarely lies so I'll stick with my instincts for now. Besides, I'm so hard up, I need a nice slow build up to my climax and I doubt very much he would've had the time to deliver.

I have to say though, its been awhile since I've locked my legs around the back of a man and felt his thrusting deep within the pit of my womb, or watched with interest his face as I dance atop his rock hard dick...so no doubt, homegirl had some interesting dreams last night....but I'll get over it.

Rejection for the Greater Calling

2009-05-22T16:49:00.001-05:00

If he were more receptive today...on this bleak and beautiful day....I would jump at the opportunity to lay in his arms and listen to the drops of rain on the concrete....nothing more, just to rest with him would have been my goal.

If I were strong enough to see his shirtless torso now much, much bigger than before, expansive, chest inviting (Creatine works), his locks of hair trailing down his neck, sexy...sweet really...If I were strong enough, I could convince him that I would stop me from destroying my faith and wouldn't have to rely on him to be my rock...

Withou the threatening rain maybe I wouldn't be catching that familiar feeling.....but it is and I am and he doesn't trust me to be good....PITY

Exorcising Demons

2009-05-21T17:53:00.007-05:00

Last weekend was spent fighting temptation....I won with a little help from prayer and my TotalGym 1500....Oh how I wish I had the TotalGym XLS or even the TotalGym 3000, but at a whopping US$1500 and US$849 its not gonna happen, at least not in this Recession. For now I just draem about owning the XLS and continue to salivate at the features.

When the burning yearning got to much I latched on to my Bible and read Psalms, Kings, Solomon and Acts but they weren't enough ...I thought. Eventually on Tuesday, i settled for a hug and a kiss from a bredren who is committed to helping me through this bold decision I've made...Damnit. He refused me yesterday, while the rain fell and my body ached, he refused me....am I losing my touch, Already???

Sinfully Good

2009-05-15T17:35:00.000-05:00

Walking the straight an narrow with the Lord is not so easy when he has pecs like pillow tops, arms that you can imagine tightly wrapped around your waist, pretty pink lips, abs like ridges, a taunt sweet waist that you picture in action grinding you in place, fingers of fury, touching each erogenous zone making you whimper and scream and moan...

Yes the righteous trod is threatened by him, the memory of him is enough to cause sin, yet I must push to the back of my mind his feel, his strong sturdy thighs, his jeans at low rise, his hips, the tsate of his d--k...its definitely not an easy road.

By His Deeds Shall a MAN be Known

2009-04-30T17:33:00.005-05:00

Young, future bright....he was a child for whom the world came tumbling down when he heard the word "Divorce".

His days since the split were spent suppressing his hurt and pain at the loss of the familial safety net...Parents who were supposed to protect him, failed him and now look at the result.

Frustrated, tired of shouting silently for help, he succumbed to the J'can male stereotype..."Bad man nuh bawl, they act out". He hid his emotions under transparent actions, tucked away the longing in him for that cuddle, a demonstration of love and protection and he succumbed.....he succumbed to the pressure of destroying someone or something else, after all, misery loves company. In order to get the attention he needed, he realised he had to scream from the core of his being for somebody, anybody to SAVE ME PLEEEEASE.

His deteriorating mind found a voice in a blog, an outlet which escalated his plea.......Jamaica, the secret society that it is, closed its eyes and ears and he languished in latent violence.

Bombarded with images of 9/11, bombings in Afghanistan, nauseating demonstrations of force of will on smaller opponents, and the ease with which one can create mayhem, a website guide to world domination explored maybe. His Itouch, cellphone, computer, TV screen, weapons of self destruction, a detonator in his hands and a head full of erroneous thoughts...a dangerous combination, but a necessity for the HELP he needed.

He's a Jamaican boy, armed with his father's gun. Blind, Overcome with the release of finally letting them see what he had become....how much it really hurt. He forced his way in, he took charge of the plane and stonewalled the troops. Minutes turned into hours....and with messages streaming in from every angle, he grew intoxicated with the stage he had entered, spotlights on him, finally.....His father on a phone, his friends too, a pleading Prime Minister...which other 21 year old could claim such an audience...all for him, a shadow until then. Hoping to recover sanity, praying the system wouldn't fail him, or that Daddy's money could bail him....raging against just being a statistic, to not be counted among the number of failures at life after legislated parental split.

Steven Fray was as much a victim as the passengers of Canjet Flight 918 His country failed him. We failed to recognise his pain...we failed to listen to the words unspoken.....this baby of the soil, the JAMROCK, our hard hearts failed him completely.

In all this though, we give thanks, that the usual force of our armed forces was not displayed, and he lives....an opportunity provided to help him still.

My concern is that a jury of his peers, will not see this action as a cry for help, but instead, will sentence him to life among the real threat. Yes, we will bow to the pressures of international organisations who were the same to happen on their own soil, would have coddled the youngster instead of sacrificing one for the greater business number.

It is indeed sad that history will recall him as a troubled youth, with too much access to information for his idle hands, weak constitution, it will see him as the corn reaped from impure wayward youth. His deeds in one night, will forever be his badge of dishonour.....no matter the motivator, no matter the circumstance, a son betrayed by a mother and father....a son of the 21st century common phenomenon... a broken home....a text book case.

First Step to Closing the Door

2009-04-30T10:10:00.002-05:00

I was early for my Father’s House, so I walked to the seashore and gazed at the morning as I pondered the paradox of building a Church almost on the sand.

Moved: I was moved to depart from my wicked lustful ways and the Lord being a good friend, took me in his arms and promised to make me whole again if only I would choose to obey.

While I’m not there fully, I considered my attendance at church for two consecutive Sundays (a vision not seen since my early teens) to be a step in the right direction toward deliverance from my sins. The road will be rough and I in my most naturally human form, will have to pray night and day and day and night for strength to overcome. Being my greatest critic as well I also hope that I will learn to forgive myself when I stumble and fall.

I have always had a rigid conception of the Christian being. A child of God is a rock with a foundation on the Lord, so then how could one fall, I used to think. But in the last three years I have learnt that even Jesus was tempted and lesser beings as we are, we cannot fully escape the allure of sin. The aim is to keep on trying and to rely on God to see you through your next confrontation with the darkside.

Prayer: Prayer I am no stranger to, and in fact it has buoyed me through quite a bit in my life, but this is not enough. Taking that step toward the Lord through acknowledgement of him as Lord and Saviour of mankind, living the life, letting your life be an example to others, these things are must dos to prove your commitment to the Cross and its promise of….. Salvation. Prayer represents however a direct contact to your shepherd and should never be broken no matter the stains on the fabric of your soul.

Spirituality: I have tried to be spiritual mostly in my 3 decades and 4 yrs, however for one who can barely muster tolerance for her brothers an sisters, this is sometimes hard to maintain. My efforts are also derailed by my more than healthy love for the gift of sex…….how do I stay away until he sends for me that one special sexy bodied being? How do I stay Chaste, for I am bombarded each day with potentials and images of the possibilities? “Just say No” rehearses in the back of my mind, yet still I am weak.

My challenge is also compounded by my seeming natural appeal to those with golden bands upon their fingers and a yearning for excitement. Appealing they are to me as well and this is my certain path to hell. But they can never ask you to be true, nor fall to their knees proposing protection until death do you part…..a format in which I find absolute stability, for I never have to pretend to be asleep as he whispers marry me.

Inspiration: As I looked up at the imposing hills, I knew the Great I AM looked down on me saying “Through me all things are possible, those in the dark I will bring into the light and they will be as a great oak tree, planted in my love a personal treasure that I will keep and hold through generations” I can’t help but be inspired to try.

PEACE: I am Confident that he will lead me home, no matter how long it takes and I will dwell in the House of the Lord in absolute peace, just in time.
My journey will be great…..the road will be rugged but I am today committed because I know he alone can change me.

What Women Want

2009-04-20T16:46:00.005-05:00

A man is a special being. He has pride of place with the Lord and is the rock on which a family is built. While I love the career woman thing, I firmly believe that this was not what God intended.

A woman is a man's companion through life as he unfolds the great plan for his life. She is not his equal and should never be made to feel like she is. A bredren of mine, with one of the brightest smiles you can imagine, summed it up in a sentence......"A woman expresses herself in a most natural kind of way when she is free of all restraints, constraints and dependencies".

At first the profundity of the statement did not resonate with me, but eventually...as I played with the notion, I had to agree, a woman is at her best when she is unencumbered by constraints. So I write this for those men who are willing to listen and adjust.....

If he stands as my King, I have no hesitation in bowing to his power and presence and servicing his every whim

If he stands as my King, I'll submit to his will and words only second to God's

My King has as his focus my complete happiness, sexual, social, spiritual and more...

For my King I will devote my life and energy to raising him up to the highest of heights and kissing his feet. My body would be his to forever keep, to explore, to even trade if he so desires.....I would be his completely.

For my King, I would rise in the morning relieve him of the tent he pitched in the night, make breakfast and kiss him on the lips before heading off to work....and for his Queen I have no doubt he would do the same.

For this man I would leave the safety of my built up security and have full faith that he will take charge......for this man I would be homey, lover and friend. For this man, I would turn a blind eye to his wayward ways knowing that he and I will keep count of his daliances and I would be given leave to repay him one day.....Balance is key

If he stands as my King there would be no place I would rather be, but in his castle, in his arms and in his heart.

Timeout

2009-04-16T08:30:00.003-05:00

At the risk of inspiring Google to fill my page with ads about mental institutions, I have to comment on one bit of current news.

I woke this morning to news of a quasi massive protest in Kabul. 300 women strong, decided they had to STAND UP for what's right, decent, human....they were protesting a new law which would see them bound to fucking their husbands 4 times per week. THE HORROR.

What's interesting is that this dastardly move by the government infringes, they say, on a woman's right (seemingly) to not fuck her husband if she doesn't want to. Critical planks of female liberation have been eroded by this act....women now think it legalizes rape in marriage...Que?

Ladies, one should never let a Government have to resort to detrmining your wifely duties.....your husband, and for heathens like myself, your man, deserves to be fucked....you deserve to be fucked.

Sex is a gift from God, mainly for procreation but damn, we have found some other quite palatable uses.....I for one wouldn't want a world without it. So what if you have to put out 4 times for the week. Its a shame that these are the matters occupying our minds when children are hungry in the streets and nations are rising up against nations.....men and women have lost their identity, and if legalisation is what it will take to set the record straight, then I am all for it.

Dreams of a J'can dawta

2009-04-14T08:15:00.003-05:00

I have often times dreamt of a bedroom with a mirror on the ceiling and ground to floor mirrors on the wall adjacent to the bed....ahh the fun of watching his body in motion fucking me and me him, that would be an absolute pleasure.

I would see my body respond to his touch, I would see him run his tongue up the line from my ass to my neck...I would see my back arch in reflex response. I would watch as his hands encircle my breasts from behind, spreading long skillful fingers across the mounds of flesh.....I would see the gentle rise of my nipples under his sweet force.

My line of vision would not be interrupted as he lays me down to explore my body. With my eyes lifted to the sky I could watch his reflection make love to a woman, tracing her curves with his finger tips, placing kisses on her stomach and inner thighs, coaxing her to open wide, it is then that I would be most grateful, for I would get light headed at the sight of his head bobbing up and down between my legs, the ripple of teh muscles in his back, one hand clutching my thigh, the other buried deep between our bodies, and I would get the opportunity to see myself cum.....yes, to watch him suck me would be worth the investment.

The Simple Life

2009-04-09T16:00:00.001-05:00

Having too much choice is at times not as fantastic as one would’ve thought. There always comes a time when all and sundry do not live up to your preconceived expectations of availability. So further options are explored, afterall, a bird cannot fly on one wing….balance is required sooo…..

In the darkness of the night his golden brown skin glowed…alive with the anticipation of the task at hand and the activities to follow. As he smiled and made his approach I held my breath, hoping he wouldn’t see the effect of the occasion on me.

“What can I do for you this evening?” His question was a simple one but I felt anxiety as I pondered what I really wanted.

“A medium conch soup and a bottle of water” I responded and enjoyed the sight of his strong jeans clad thighs as he rushed to fill my order. Lover’s Rock floated through the speakers and voices were raised in excitement while the smell of steam and roasted oyster wafted through the air.

Harbour View Round-About on any night but moreso Friday and Saturday nights is the place to be for seafood lovers. Now, this stuff is not for the weak….wi talking real, real conch stew, raw and roasted oyster, pepper from a questionable bottle which just adds to the excitement, fish frying in a black dutch pot, fried chicken, jerk chicken at every spot, fish soup, conch soup, chicken soup, rice and peas, vegetables, festival a roll, bammy bubbling in hot oil and lots and lots of alcohol…nice.

If you can appreciate a simple flex, this is the ideal thing. You can enjoy your meal to the sounds of Beres or watch a movie or two from a picnic table. Conversation, if that’s your thing, is easy with all you meet cause the vibe is jus’ sweet but if you prefer to gaze at the stars while you eat, that can be facilitated.

Sitting on my own at a picnic table smiling mostly at every person who stops to say “Goodnight”, I had my conch stew and thought about what I would do when got to the airport…how good it would feel to be in his arms again….if only for the weekend.

A Lovely Day

2009-04-08T08:06:00.004-05:00

Really, Really good Sundays start with my eyes fluttering open to the sounds of birds and....my warm body wrapped in his.

It is a day where only two things occupy my mind ....to see if he can keep up with me, and that we'll end the day with battle scars from the sucking, tugging, licking, slipping, slapping which occurs all in the name of love.

These Sundays are usually preceded by a week from hell and is a wonderful tool to refocus oneself through surrender to your attraction to him and his lovemaking with absolute ease.

Curling into his chest, kissing his bulging biceps, brushing your lips against his bearded cheeks, watching him slowly awaken....asking at that point if you could make love to him....seeing his eyes light up at the thought. Yes, on Sundays like that you conquer the bed, the bedroom floor, the bathroom adjoining, the kitchen....ahhh the kitchen....and any other room you choose. Its a necessity that no room is left unblessed.

If you are really, really lucky, this unfolds in a Hotel room on the North or South Coast where sustenance is but a phone call away. For Sundays like that you would actually pick a fight just to see how well he could channel his anger into more constructive energy.....

As he lays there... chest exposed, hair sprinkled across each pec, eyes glossy, his dark skin against the white sheets...you watch the rise and fall of his stomach as his excitement builds at the sight of you kneeling over him, tongue between your parted lips, hands trailing a path to his groin, swaying to the primal rhythm of his fingers on your clit....

How sweet a Sunday can be when you set yourself free.

Jumbled thoughts on a Whimsical Saturday

2009-04-04T15:20:00.004-05:00

Like the vines of the Ivy planted at the base of a wall, growth takes place in several directions.

From the heart of a wee twig life springs and reaches toward the sun with extensions of self growing at variable rates....magnificently.

Unlike the Ivy, which is in no hurry to cover the great expanse of wall, Man sometimes is rushed to mature and reaps certain doom to be charted in the annals of his life. The natural flow of life is interrupted to man's peril...until......if one is lucky, one uncovers and learns the lessons of life and growth, quickly....Should you be blessed with discernment, this is an easy task, should, however, lady luck despise your friendship, you languish in failed attempts at building self.

Character, like the Ivy, is never the arm of you that reaches to its peak first. Instead, it reserves its fever and is informed by every failed attempt. The struggle, the fight, it all feeds the real you to be unveiled in the future when the lessons have been learnt, when new paths to development are found.

A component of you however is always left behind to remind you of who you were at a particular time in your existence. These remnant experiences become the rock on which your true self builds......stop for a moment, let the real you be heard and seen...stop.....and let life unfold naturally.....you'll be happier for it.

On the wings of the morning

2009-03-30T17:34:00.004-05:00

Man was not meant to work seven days a week I've realized.

Ye shall keep a Sabbath.....

For me that's on a Sunday...there's nothing like a Sunday morning. I am filled with appreciation for this day...of course I have a greater appreciation for the morning and not so much for the night.

On that day I rise to the bellowing sound of a cock , and stretch from my limbs, consciousness, muscles and bones the complexity of the six days prior. I dress quickly and head for the great outdoors....under a tree is where you'll find me, fresh fruits in hand, a notebook and a cup of tea...at rest with myself as a part of nature.

Twas a lively day yesterday too, with the sun burning its shape into the sky, the hills reaching toward the clouds in resplendent green wonder while said clouds float by is focused disarray...ahhhhh......a beautiful day, filled with promises of nothing to do but go get a paper in an hour or maybe two.

The breeze rustling through the bows o the coconut tree, birds chirping on and on about something seemingly fun. Shadows an shapes intermingle in the morning glory and I am left...yet again...to be in awe of life and this wonderful island livity.

Ode

2009-03-27T15:24:00.003-05:00

A troubled soul with a whip for a tongue, a mane like a lion, Samson personified. He wears a veil of abrasiveness to cover that very sweet smile and the tracks of a vulnerability caused by a broken heart.

He thrives on the wow factor and contorts his wit to reap this gift from all who he meets. One is easily repulsed by his candour but one is also intrigued by same cause it leaves you to wonder....what was her name.

Broken bits of him he clings to like a shroud of quasi existence in a world where sarcasm is king and drips from his lips like spicy red Zinfandel wine ...alluring but sometimes too deep.

His commitment to fighting the great fight is admirable but oft times he fights without a cause...for one never really knows what the powers that be have done to warrant his inability to leave a fight unfought.

He holds himself erect and strong, immorality his shield from emotion. His swagger undeniable, his interest fleeting. He's a sweet soul really, but then she sees sweet in all she meets, and her judgement has already been proven to be weak...always ready with what she wants most, he tip toes through her thoughts, a muse, forcing her to ask "what the fuck?"...

An avid reader he is, filled with knowledge of too many things, a Clarke Kent in superman's body, he is a woman's fantasy and when he finally gets going he is impossible to not treat. his strength belies his weakest link which he somehow doesn't seem to know exists and runs so deep. Will he hide away while they drag him over the coals for unwanted overtures or will he fight now that there's a cause...counter suit possibly, evidence to be uncovered which demonstrates he was not unprovoked.

Through his transparently thick machismo she sees beyond his attitude...he is an island treasure and it burns deep within her to see him actualize and be free....In the end, to the man that taught her how to build her triceps, she says.."Remember you are a King....ROAR".

Interview

2009-03-26T13:24:00.000-05:00

Tomorrow I will don my best garb and wait to be led before the firing squad of 4 panelists.

I will whisper as I wait, prayers for strength and solid memory. I will hope my sweat does'nt run down my forehead and that a calm physical appearance will be my shield from the onslaught of questions designed to boggle the mind and cast you into an abyss of self doubt.

In the end, hopefully, I will come out on top and my plans for home ownership would have commenced. Aaahhhh

Public Service Announcement

2009-03-16T08:57:00.001-05:00

Taboo as is is to admit these days to the fact that the feel of sex is gloriously enhanced when there are no barriers between him and the soft velvety feel of inside me, I will take a stand today to refute the claims of the HIV campaigns and declare that there is indeed a difference between gloved and 'ungloved' Love.

A 'condomized' connection falls grossly short of the Alps to which an 8 inch black, rigid d--k can take you. The gratification received serves only to dull the need for physical contact and places in your mind the notion that you have felt him completely. Yes, it is understood that in these days that's a fact we have to live with if we wish to live but.....Nothing Compares to a Bareback Ride.

Personally therefore, I am willing to take my time with someone I really like so that we can explore each other in this way without worry. In this connection, I am willing to get tested for HIV as part of our date, I am willing to wait the 6 months to get tested again to be sure and if I were a stronger girl, I could possible wait a further 3 months to be triple sure, and depending on the result .....fuck him in the car park of the testing centre.

No one understands more than me the allure of the skin to skin feel, however a demonstration of patience is required if one wishes to be around for further enjoyment with others. I therefore advocate the use of condoms during the waiting period as you build up to the glory day (provided all goes well with the test).

With two negative results in hand I can lay back in comfort and watch as he sucks me dry, darting his tongue in and out of me sipping, slurping tasting his way from my slit to my clit...teasing, coaxing a wet response. On that glory day, night, weekend - I prefer this ;) I get to be free to indulge completely and its usually worth the wait.

I get to suck him and swallow without a moment of fear...I get to nibble and lick and kiss, I get to straddle him a fuck him til the sun comes up and enjoy the glimpses I get of my juices glistening on his black c--k....I get to tell him to take a look at my response to him as he dips and slips in and out, excavating, uncovering the treasure of my cum....I get to watch him watch me drop to my knees and lick my juices from his d--k with my pink lips, and I get to enjoy the contrast that is.

With safety in check, one is afforded an opportunity to really fuck each other into submission, and trust me, this is heaven. So Get Tested.....at least twice before you enter into an unprotected ride.

Sexy...the Sequel

2009-03-10T15:01:00.003-05:00

Sexy is his hand under my skirt flirting with that soft V....stroking, kneading...touching you.

Sexy is the look on his face when you invite him to make love to you.

Sexy is that gleam in his eyes as he falls to his knees before you, waiting for a gesture of approval to touch his lips and tongue to the wet flesh.

Sexy is his confidence in his skill to take you to the brink and back with sweet torture

Sexy is his moan when my hips wine and grind his mouth to my satisfaction

Sexy is the tease of his fingertips over my clit as starts to probe the entrance to heaven

Sexy is wishing his tongue was there instead

Sexy is watching him under me, torn between watching me ride and fucking me out.

Sexy is seeing him give in to the latter feeling

Sexy is being pliant as he bends and twists your body to find that right position in which to touch
that sp..ot

Sexy is his pumping reaction to a whisper for more

Sexy is him taking your toes into his mouth so he can feel the clench and release on his dick

Sexy is breaking that vibe to taste the instrument of pleasure.

Sexy is him dipping and slipping in and out of your mouth

Sexy is him incrementally filling your throat with inch after inch of him

Sexy is the gag that results

Sexy is his hand at the sides of my face holding me in place on his dick

Sexy is simulating so well with your lips and tongue the snatch of your pussy that he pulls away to cool the growing fire in him to fill your mouth with seed

Sexy is waiting with lips agape...hungry for his return

Sexy is the groan from deep within you as he strokes your tongue with the velvety soft shaft

Sexy is him being motivated by that to forget that you are his friend, colleague, bredren, friend's sister, best friend's wife or girlfriend and deliver a poetry evoking fuck session which drains your body of fluids and sweetly batters and bruises your insides into submission to him.....leaving you spent...unable to recharge...Finally Satisfied.

Thoughts

2009-03-05T09:44:00.003-05:00

Seduction is :

- His eyes on me as I lean in closer to hear him explain how he seduces a woman.

- The warmth of his breath as he whispers...."with words"

- The thrill that stirs in you

- The part of his cute lips and the contrast of his white teeth against his pink tongue

- His seemingly unorchestrated ease with you as he chats about this and that

- Imagining his fingers a plucking all your fucking strings

- His attempt at a "come hither" look :)

- Losing track of the conversation as a result of imaginings of him in a more relaxed position between your legs

- Noting his strong forearms and wide chest

- Watching his reaction to a question about his size ( a girl should know upfront what she's getting into)

- Knowing he's off limits but wanting so much to test the waters and his commitment to resisting the temptation

- Thinking in that moment that it would be a pleasure to kiss those sexy lips, but haphazardly, skillfully manoeuvring away from his intended kisses out of respect for the band of gold he wears so happily

- Feeling pangs of regret for the possible romp roaring sex that could have followed if I had given in.

- A man who unknowingly brings out the good in you.

Defensively Speaking

2009-03-04T17:37:00.003-05:00

I am not doing too well with the Lent thing...

The Player mounted a hell of an attack and I was failed by memories so I fell

The Body builder made amends for his behaviour with an introduction to the hard side of him and he rocked me all night long...for two nights

First love look like him really vex suh him nuh call

But all in all I think I did well cause Boogie advanced this morning, and though my heart played a rhythm of love and bombarded me with memories of the feel of him on me, I resisted.....I Overcame.

I don't feel victorious or proud....I know it was the right thing to do, but....it doesn't feel the way I thought my stand against the embodiment of all evil would.

LENT

2009-02-27T14:57:00.004-05:00

Wednesday marked the beginning of 40 days of temptation and while I couldn't claim to have any likeness to the great overcomer, I believe that every one of us has a chance to be saved by his father. We all through God's help can say with confidence "Get thee behind me Satan".

Ash Wednesday caught me engrossed in thought about me...my lack of patience and my seeming endless intolerance for every thing around me. In true celebration of Christianity however I pondered what to give up for the season. In years gone by my first guess would have been "sex" but with very little of that taking place right now I figure I shouldn't push the envelop on that subject lest I forget the feel and taste of this sport. I chose therefore the lesser evil....taking a break from all my distractions. I prayed on it and hoped that these 4o days would pass like many before, unnoticed, unspectacular...very run of the mill. I should've known better.

Sometimes its difficult for me to not think that there is a place reserved in heaven for me should I decide to surrender to the Lord fully, cause no sooner I had made this resolution did I recall that I by simply wanting to be better, would be bombarded by serpentine plots to steal my blessing. This time was no different.

In the weeks past I have been a good enough girl, I think. I have played with some buddies but only with words nothing physical. I have also been very clear on the fact that I am playing so my bredrens ought not to have construed any depth from my behaviour. Of late therefore I have found myself longing for experienced hands to rock my body....so I have been focusing on Mr. ATL. No sooner did I have a in mind to book a ticket to New York to exorcise my demons, did First Love decide to come to visit and demand to see me. I did the math and it seemed safe to agree to meet for a drink in his two day stint cause I would have flown out and in by the time he touched down. In the mix also was a planned night of love making with the Body Builder. All was well with the world:)

I should have known that my full social calendar mingled with a promise to the Lord would have resulted in even more stress. I did not expect however:

That Mr. ATL would piss me off on a point of cash and possessiveness
That First Love would have had a death in his family which would require him to be here sooner rather than later
That the Body Builder would become a p---yhole overnight
And the coup de grace...the Player would call to see if I was now well enough to play

Mi salt.

If this were someone else's life I would be amused slightly, but as I am the one in the hot seat....I'm pissed.

The world was no longer right and as I am immature in my approach to these things usually, I decided to cut off my nose to spite my face....suh mi leggo all a dem. I have some regrets but I know that this was just the beginning, soon even Boogie will torment me and while I know I can dance around the rest, I pray for strength to overcome when he advances

We Must Overcome

2009-02-23T12:06:00.003-05:00

I have come to the realisation that I am one of those older people who can't stand uppity children...yes, I am now my mother.

On Friday I visited the HWT Bus Station just a half hour after they killed a thief at the entrance on Constant Spring Road. The space was littered with high school children just milling around as if nothing had happened....how hardened we have become to violence, even the youngest of the lot seemed unperturbed by the days happenings and stood resolute in their plans to idle away the Friday evening in joy in the bus park.

I know the area to be dangerous but I needed envelopes so I stopped in to purchase same from the Book shop there. As I waited to be rung up, my eyes drifted to a Young Couple...lost in their own world caressing each other. Now I wouldn't have had a problem if the expressive couple were even 13 years old, but since they barely looked out of second form (8th grade) I was disgusted.

There they were, his hands looped around her ass under her book bag, kneading the mound of flesh......and there she was, her arms similarly looped and staring deeply into his eyes as he whispered sweet nothings (probably the words to "Rampin Shop" cause they think this a display of literary genious' capture of intimate relations) and they were as one. What the.....

Not being one to stand idly by and watch my education tax contribution wasted, upon finishing my transaction I stepped to the love-birds and asked whether they were sure this was the vibe they wanted to perpetrate in the bus park. In salute to me as an Elder, they were quiet and broke the hold....they did not answer however and I'm not sure if it was embarrassment, ignorance or indignation....but I was not deterred, so I asked a follow-up question, to the little hazel eyed girl with her cornrow natural hair giving the impression of a youth with good 'broughtupsy'..."What would your mother say if she knew what you were doing in the bus park?"....at that stage I don't know if it was anger which darkened those hazel discs but her "man" took her by the hand and walked me out. What the.....:)

All that time my friend stood there in disbelief that I would put our lives again at risk. She beseeched me to "Come" as teh ordeal unfolded... she took my hand and trie dto lead me away whispering in a shaky tome "Let's go before they return wid dem bad man friends and bus' wi ass".... I'm not irrational so the wisdom of thsoe words were not lost on me.....I acceded and left the scene.

Our youth are lost....adulthood and childhood seem to have gotten crossed somewhere in the mix in this information age and we are living in a country of undefined roles...it must stop, it will stop, we all have to be the change. A generation of vipers await us in the future if we are not robust in our attack...are these the people you want in charge of your lives in your old age? We must stand.We cannot bend to the wishes of these misguided youth who wish to jump the gun on adulthood and who by virtue of having sex, feel they are one with those who went before......join me and let us mash down that lie.

Dialogue

2009-02-19T10:21:00.000-05:00

Communication in a relationship is necessary to retain good relations as you go along the journey. It is important to open up, talk to your partner, convey to him what you want and how you want it.

For those who don’t understand the dialect…I’m sorry….for those who do….enjoy.....

What do you want?

More.

Will you be a good girl if I push it in?

Yes.

Don’t move.

Mmmmm.

Don’t make me slap you, don’t move.

Slap me….please.

God you feel good.

Hit that spot fi mi baby.

Oooww.

Baby.

Suck mi.

Open your mouth.

Mmmmm.

No hands. Just suck it like that…..aaahhh.

Bend over ;-)

Its wet and ready.

Can I fuck this pretty pussy?

Yeeessss strech it fi mi an’ mek it feel good

Stay right there…..good girl…..good girl.

Ohhhhhhh.

I’m gonna cum.

Go down deep and sprinkle mi baby.

Ahhhh.

Not yet.

Right now….cum now…cumm …….cummmm…..Yeah man…cum fi mi….cum pan mi dick

God yuh dick sweet….bruk it in deh fi mi….cum inna mi hole…….Mek di pussy mek yuh cum…fuck it like a big man and cum ………

Good boy…..good boy.

Sleeping Together

2009-02-17T18:56:00.002-05:00

If I had the power to change one thing in this world, it would be that the sun would come up at 8:00 a.m. …….For then, time would seemingly stand still and he nor me would have to go to work…too early. It would leave us time in those wee hours to reconnect with each others’ bodies without intercourse. A time to express our….. passion for each.

His hands….all over my body….my head on his chest….. my legs intertwined with his…..his lips on my forehead. That moment would last and so would the feeling of…love/like…..comfort.
I could get the opportunity to…rest with him; to run my fingertips over his chest, to caress each nipple with my tongue, to trail kisses to his neck….. to nuzzle, to kiss….all from the safety of that nook. To kiss him to bed. To align your body so closely to his that his thigh between your legs is soaked…..To whisper sweet nothings in his ear, to watch him fight for control……to see him succeed at that in honour of the intimacy of the moment.….

To feel him in this time is a wonderful thing. To rest atop him just to sleep forms a spiritual connection only a truly greater man could put asunder. To take his arm across your waist, his front to your back, to kiss his fingers, to settle against his body and feel him rise….to shuffle in, to feel him pull you closer….that moment that makes you… exhale.

To roll over in his arms and snuggle in as he kisses your shoulder and neck while still asleep, a reflex action like the throb in your loins at the gentleness he reserves for you in his bed…..This is how men should sleep with their woman.

Making Love is a Process

2009-02-13T13:16:00.001-05:00

Pt. I

A whisper was what I heard as he stirred me at 3:00 a.m. this morning to make him feel alive.

‘Spread your legs for me baby……spread your legs”. Light kisses rained down on my breasts, stomach and inner thighs…..mmmmmmm. I tried to put a hand up when he came too close to that spot, that V, but his sticking tongue lulled me into inaction as he sipped and sipped. Before I could remember what I had planned, my legs fell to the sides…open they waited...deceiving me.

Softly as the pressure built into an almost frenzy, I reached for his head, and with Goat T covered in me he asked whether he wasn’t...moving me. “It feels fucking great” was my answer…and I lamented how much he knew me.

With hands rendered useless by this sin I could only scream into a pillow as he stuck his finger in. I prayed my neighbours could hear and listen to how a man should make love to his woman.

“Shhhh” he coached. But how could I remain quiet when everything in me was bursting out, fluids ready to stream from my body into his…..mouth. How could be still?

I decided to let him feel what I was feeling and asked if I could straddle his face….he agreed wholeheartedly……gotta luv a man who is free enough to release his body to me…..mmmmm. I watched as he assumed the position openly and signaled to me when and I watched him then…admiring m handywork and he was beautiful.

I trailed kisses from the side of his neck to his chest and he steered my head to his nipple and moaned a command for me to lick. I flicked and licked the knob and nurtured a rising peak. He was pliant….that was soooo sweet.

With temptation that great I could only indulge, I abandoned my plan of straddling his face and dragged my tongue instead over his stomach and taunt waist. His groan of pleasure was deep and low as I licked the side of the shaft and border of the mushroom head....readying him for the warmth of the back of my throat.

“Can I suck you baby?” I asked with his dick’s head secure between the side of my tongue and cheek. His yes was inaudible but the feel of his hands at the back of my head forcing me down to deliver a deep throat was proof of the yes he said.

I swallowed him whole…..

Depressed

2009-02-12T14:15:00.008-05:00

Today is not a good day.

My friends tell me I should "ben' mi min' to mi condition" and accept that I am single and therefore ought not long for moments of intimacy with my own...ish personal man. They drum into my ear more often these days as I lament my ineptitude at settling with that one dude, the need for me to rise above the allure of a dick and learn to live on my own. "Seek ye first the material and frig the emotional", they say.

Today therefore, as much as I try to focus on work, intermittently I reflect on this broken me. While I would love to adopt my friends' militant stance, its hard for me to be that girl. I'm too proud. Its not that I'm not interested in a man's wealth...I hope. Its presence removes so much of the stress from life cause a woman is at her best when she is unencumbered by financial woes.....its just that I like the other stuff too.

Its not only the dick. I like being in a relationship...even if its marred by infidelity, monogamy is a myth. Infidelity is a sideline activity, I like to think, and if he/she stays with you then this confirms it. If he/she goes, then it hurts initially, but one can't help but feel happy eventually that he/she is out of your life and have opened a door to your possible future happiness. I would never destroy years of a relationship because he dipped his dick inna a girl pon the side unless he demonstrated that this girl was who he wanted to be with on a full time basis ...then I have no difficulty stepping away cause I like to be the focus of attention. I would hope too that he would afford me the same consideration.

I miss more than anything, waking up with a man you don't have to put on a face for. I miss some other being knowing how much I love Cheetos and not scoffing at or giving me a lecture on my bad eating habits cause he knows I have a season for Cheetos, as a meal, and it too will pass. I miss the intimacy. I miss going to see his parents or my father together, I miss deciding together which movie to watch or making dinner together...I miss watching him sleep. I miss knowing that when I stray and play its idleness not because I have to.

I guess it serves me right for being how I am in these matters but its a hard pill nonetheless....afterall, I'm just a girl....with stupid emotions.

The good thing though is that this like my Cheetos habit, will pass and next week I will post about my triumph over the "Valentines Day blues" and be refreshed yet again to fight in this cruel, cruel world.

What is Sexy

2009-02-11T10:28:00.000-05:00

Sexy is standing between his legs on a moonlit night, intoxicated by the salty smell of the sea and asking him if you could …kiss him.

Sexy is feeling his hands trace the outline of my thighs up to my waist;

Sexy is hoping his hands will never grow tired of touching me….feeling me;

Sexy is bringing my head down to take his lips and tongue and he…responds to my hunger;

Sexy is thrusting my tongue to the back of his throat, searching, tasting all of him;

Sexy is knowing he’s growing hard and stepping away to stay within the boundaries of ‘Bredrendom”

Sexy is him saying fuck that :)

Sexy is when he lifts me into the sky and reaches for my crotch with his mouth;

Sexy is him under me;

Sexy is his moan when his fingers touch my wet p---y for the first time;

Sexy is forcing the him in unguided by the hand….really sexy;

Sexy is straddling him and interlocking my fingers with his to maximize the ride;

Sexy is him holding me fixed atop his lap and under the treatment;

Sexy is breaking him before he wanted to;

Sexy is his body wrapped to his waist in white sheets… asleep after.

Sexy is…..simply, Him

An Offer to Refuse???

2009-02-10T17:07:00.004-05:00

I was under an Almond tree, herbally refreshed, when I accepted that I missed being made love to by a Big Man. Why?......cause fulfillment comes with that formula. All your concerns about pleasing him become fodder for him to feed from and he takes you to the moon and back and if you're lucky, up again. He allows you to take him on a journey with your lips and tongue and relaxes under you for as long as you can stand to be the giver of pleasure.

Being a weak being, I opted for a lesser evil than getting the real thing from the man I really wanted but who is…so very bad for me. I played ‘phone buddy’ with a very experienced Him who was many, many miles to the North away.....Thank God. We spoke about better times and good vibes to come in this new year.

We had started as bredrens so he knew enough about me to not take me too seriously, which leaves us to indulge in each other only when its absolutely necessary, when all other options have failed. It’s a symbiotic relationship, I like to think, and he knows so well what to do with my body.

As we chatted he divulged that he always regretted not giving me the one fantasy which has occupied my mind from my first sexual experience… "A threesome" …mmmm. Every partner I’ve ever had knows this….but he, with his permission slip from his wife to do as he pleases as long as he straps up, and his slip to her demanding likewise…he was the only one who came close to fulfilling this dream, an uninhibited soul sexually. Built like a brick wall, he stands 6 ft tall and wears a swagger that shouts from the mountain tops, “I ARE THE ONE” who can bend and eventually break you in.

This man was a carbon copy of my wild side…he and wifey swing, dabble in toys, sex clubs…..you name it. They enjoy every moment of their wedded bliss and this made him off-limits…ish. I’ve always felt that I would get too caught up with the lifestyle and secure a place in Hell with him. He knows how to treat a woman though…all her needs taken care of… provided she asked…that was another problem cause a man shouldn’t allow a woman to stoop to such lows. For a proud girl like me I prefer to not feel like I’m begging. It is understood that men are not mind readers, so they have no idea about what a woman wants or needs unless you tell them, and in some instances you do, however this too still feels like begging. So, in a relationship, I opt for a fix which involves a monthly allowance and in return, I try to keep it interesting sexually.

Anyway, he talked me through a cum and as I regained composure, we settled into an all too familiar grove of banter about who made who cum the most when we were together. It was then that I realized that I missed him…somewhat.

Not being one to sit idly by when a ‘vibes tek mi’, I suggested we rekindle the flame… We agreed that I would fly up one weekend and he would sample me alone for the first day and as a part of a sandwich the next……I got wet immediately.

Do I have reservations…Yes…the health threat is one, but the temptation is so great….then there’s the fact that I may not be as good a condiment in the mix…and the blow that would be to my ego….but the allure is soooo great....

In the end we decided that the threesome would be at my request…I’ll think on it. One thing I know though, I will leave my encounter with him satisfied…the fire extinguished…I would rest in the after glow of him in and on me and I will be spent…just the way I like it to be….the rest would just be gravy.

An Eye Opening Experience

2009-02-09T09:27:00.000-05:00

I’ve always been loyal to my country…..I’m no Nanny of the Maroons but I’ve always been Jamaica’s champion, was one of those who wouldn’t stand for external harsh criticism of my ailing State and would seek to slam anyone who did not subscribe to the sun and sand, No Problem veil which the island wore. When things got bad I believed in my people to rise above the pressures of inefficient governance, corruption, cronyism in contract awards and fat cat scandals. They didn’t and to date haven’t, risen up.

The only sliver of hope I had was planted within the confines of complete trust in the generations to come…….. to lead the charge and in fact overcome. I was wrong.

The events of Monday last, broke my heart and signaled the end of my love affair with this island paradise. Now I scour the Canadian immigration website hoping to find my qualification listed so that I can escape to a better border, more productive borders…..colder than a wife scorned, but hope nonetheless.

Monday evening as I and a girlfriend demonstrated a part of the break down in our society by heading into Island Grill in Twin Gates Plaza to feed off partially seasoned chicken and fish and soup to buss di gas, we were accosted by a yout, he couldn’t have been more than 10 years old. “Beg yuh sumpthing miss?” he asked. “Not today sweetheart” I answered and continued on my way.

After taking forever to get the fast food, we walked back to the car, chatting bout dis and dat, until my friend realized her festivals were not packed. I continued my journey, as she rushed back, and settled eventually in the drivers seat waiting to leave to guh eat cause Wolmer’s brainwash mi well, all now I caan eat pon di road.

Eventually I saw her hustle in an almost trot toward the vehicle, the same likkle yout matching her steps, hand outstretched asking, pleading for something. As she bungled into the vehicle I locked us in and proceeded to pull out of the parking space. I came to an immediate halt as the ‘youth’ started banging on the car window….I’m a girl who easy fi cross, especially after my wake-up call at Stewarts to service mi likkle V6…I could only imagine how much it would cost to replace a window, suh mi win’ down di winda an’ tell the yout fi step away before a really get vex.

In my anger I wrapped it up and listened to the roar of the engine as I did my reversing with earnest and pressed out. On approaching the stop light to enter onto Constant Spring Road, my friend said she saw the yout bend down and pick up sumpn. I didn’t believe, cause di yout couldn’t be more than 10 yrs old….’Im couldn’t suh bright. Anger went to fear partially but again, di yout was 10 yrs old and must know seh him cannot piss around wid big people. I was wrong.

I sat at the light watching the yout fume and mumble….mi steel mi nerve, but part a mi did feel it fi ‘im. I grew up poor too, but fimi madda woulda kill mi if she knew seh mi deh a street a beg…..yuh mad. I noticed too that he was looking at the light and then at me, so I followed the same path, watching him , watch me and di light. As I saw green a step inna di car fi guh pon di road. All I coulda si was di yout han’ raise and a stone fly inna the side a di car. In anger, disbelief and a burning need to paan a big stick an bruk it cross him back, I slapped on my hazard, parked in the di middle a di road and alight…..not sure to do what, but that was how vex I was…..Some men started shouting to me “ a weh him duh” then before I could answer, they took off after the likkle yout. Its amazing how Jamaicans can band together in crime, cause is a man up di road hol' him. Di likle yout did sipple, suh him get weh and start run down di road. All this time I was scared stiff and chose to jump back into di vehicle. The likkle yout ran straight into the men running up di road and they proceeded to beat the living daylight outta him. Mi drive weh, cause yout fi know demselves.

I couldn’t help feeling absolute remorse though…I had become one of them. I didn’t stop the beating, I just drove away, not knowing if he survived, afterall, it was jus’ a yout….but mi did vex.

As I pulled into the driveway of my girlfriend’s house, I felt lucky, since there was minimal damage to the car, so I whispered a prayer for my soul and the likkle yout….that was a hard way to learn a lesson. As I uncapped a Heineken to settle my nerves and called a brother, who wished he were here to put on two lick pon di yout to, I struggled for composure.
With no sign of calm returning to me I thought about getting a hug…..being wrapped in a man’s arms to restore the feeling of safety…but then the reality hit…I only had bredrens, who had lives elsewhere and therefore could be unavailable. To call and not get answered would have just pissed me off more, so I suffered in silence.

I will hang up my superwoman cape and accept that the time has come to look to greener pastures even if they are in Recession.

Knowing Oneself

2009-02-05T13:50:00.003-05:00

In response to a wicked, wicked man who has challenged me to put thought into " 25 random things about me", I've stretched my mind and realize that I probably don't know a lot about me.

Nonetheless, here goes:

1) Easy to anger
2) Love to love
3) Will eat anything coated in chocolate
4) Proud, Loyal and Impatient
5) Love most of the Arts
6) Not confident enough
7) I'm a workaholic
8) I'm easily bored
9) Not very tolerant of people or crap
10) Sweet nuh backside...if yuh ketch mi pon di right day
11) Hate volunteer work, but would like to contribute to making the world a better place
12) I have a love/hate relationship with the rain
13) Love Chinese food...absolutely love it
14) Have a strong sense of right and wrong but too weak to stay on the straight and narrow
15) Have a good enough voice
16) Love the sea and nature in general
17) Great cook, but hate when its a chore
18) Great sense of humour
19) I'm Lazy mostly
20) Love Ackee and Saltfish...could eat that everyday

For grown ups now.. ;)

21) Love the odour of sex
22) Love getting spanked
23) Its a pleasure to give a blow job
24) Love feeling a man under me
25) Will try most positions at least once

It was easy to write this part...maybe I should ask my stunning friend to tell me 10 sexual things that make him moan :)

A Big Man….(unfinished).

2009-02-05T13:46:00.001-05:00

I’ve always appreciated and enjoyed a Big Man’s approach to love making. The term is used loosely to describe a man who is cocky as hell, smooth with an inescapably sweet enough smile to woo your panties off.

For me usually he is built just a little more than enough, over six feet tall, goat tee, confident enough to have a woman on each arm and strut through a room like a King, knowing the women want him and that the men wish they could ignore their partner’s knowing response. He’s usually 35 – 50 years old and someone else’s Boogie, the man she married and will love forever even if it’s over.

There’s just something about a man who can spend 4 hours in a day or night making love to your body and fucking you into exhaustion. He knows how to give you time to ready him and yourself for the task ahead. He is open to position suggestion and a connoisseur of cunnilingus, he aims to please at all costs. His candour is brutal but somehow he manages to make you feel like you’re the only one he has. He makes you think just enough about him when you’re apart and you aren’t quite sure if its his swagger, his slow grind, his tongue or the money he spends. His magnetic pull while in the same room, knowing how sensitive he is to your touch, remembering that slow low groan when you covered his thumb with your lips, signals his power and vulnerability…..he makes sex a priceless treasure. That’s a Big man.

Don’t get me wrong, there’s always space in the mix for a “fucker” too, cause after all, it all ends up in a fuck. But a Big Man knows when to apply the pressure and when to ease back. He challenges you to stay the course, he tells you bullshit as he delivers each stroke (everything but calling me a bitch that one pisses me off), he is not afraid to tell you how hot, wet and good the pussy feels. He, because he knows love making takes time, can break the stride and watch you go down executing a plan to make him moan even louder still…… and A Big man occasionally will.

He knows how to wrap his fingers around your neck and squeeze as you build toward a cum, exerting just enough force to make you excitedly heady.

He knows when to be my man and when to be my bitch……and he enjoys the reversal of the roles cause he also knows that with one stroke he can trade the places.

Rough Night

2009-01-28T17:36:00.002-05:00

It's morning. She stirs from a restless night, hung over from thoughts and imaginings, tired, weak and still horny.

The fire had raged within her all evening and into the night, a longing, yearning to be loved, to be laid down and treated to a session which was all about her....no requirement on her part to give pleasure, just to relax and receive. With no available outlet she worked as much as her rambling mind and hormones would allow; she worked out for an hour in hopes that the exhaustion would undo the burn deep within her loins....it all didn't work.

As she battled self she thought about why it was that she was in this position still. Why does she not have that one guy who meets all her needs...financial, emotional and freaky. Why wasn't she able to have sustained interest in only one man, why she had buried the love she had so deep within, never to be unchained again, why must she fight each day to be a better person only to have her efforts derailed.

The heaviness of the issue took its toll and the usual suspect played in her mind as an outlet for release but......this was not what she wanted. One cannot expect a successful year if one is constantly breaking resolutions aimed at restoring, re engineering oneself. So she prayed for sleep, which came but with unwanted dreams....sigh.

Winning this battle will take great courage and commitment, she thought and whispered another prayer for strength, patience and tolerance for the once a week sex which was not what she was accustomed to but a necessary distraction to restore focus...at least somewhat.

Swinging the Bat

2009-01-27T11:58:00.002-05:00

Sex is a sport for which both parties need to prepare. Bad sex, though exhilarating at times, is still bad sex.

With the confinement of safety gear these days, a necessary evil, it becomes even more stressful to engage successfully…and I am completely cognizant and tolerant of that fact. Fit together the usual pressures of sex with a woman who you long to hear your name on her lips, and the act becomes one big mess. But….

Unfortunately I can say loudly, that I have been around the block …just a coupla times…so I have met all sizes, those that kink - because as it grew brotha neva know seh him fi tuck it away in one line inna him draws and decide instead to twist the poor thing to lodge its 4 inches at rest to the left or right- those short but sometimes so very sweet; those 9 inches long and 2 inches across, thick, big, rigid and ready fi tek on any charge; and those in between. I think therefore I have been exposed also to the failure of the equipment to maintain its solid integrity. Erectile Dysfunction is not as uncommon as you think.

While I accept that there also might be a correlation between my high performance standards and poor blood circulation, I must implore all men to tell a bitch bout dem things deh before you make her hot and wet and there’s no action to follow di bag a mout…before she starts rehearsing in her head the “It happens sometimes, don’t worry” speech, or if you really like him, you fake it like its your third time with him and he has finally figured out how to fuck you just right and satisfied all your desires.

There is nothing worse than waiting a week to feel his dick so that the vibe will be more intense and arriving late but just in time for the clouds to open up a steady drizzle of rain, the perfect background for what you were feeling, and watching him, shirtless, pecs jumping, arms slowly pumping, abs bulging, run to organize entrance through the gate….stirring a wild emotion deep within the fibre of your being….that day when you watched the news to not give the appearance of eagerness, when you saw lust darken his eyes and he trapped you in an unanticipated kiss….a long, extended, wet di pussy kiss…..and you can’t wait to feel the total bliss as he instructs you to take off your dress while he watches your hard nipples burst forth from its lacy support…..not then.

Don’t wait until my body is over-stimulated by the anticipation and any touch from your hands as you stand like a lion above and lift my head from sucking your dick, readying me for a full onslaught of pleasurable pain, only to find moments of hardness, insufficient to support any constructive roll out of plans…..that’s not the time to share this horrible truth…….that’s just mean and wicked.

Get your shit sorted before yuh put 'argument' to a woman.

Viagra, Cialis, Enzyte, Levithra, Zion roots, Magnum, Front End Lifter, G-Force, all the other medication people clutter my junk mail box with are there for a purpose. Get that shit sorted out, or tell me before hand….I may make a few jokes, but it’s all in good fun and will in no way detract from my interest in you. In fact it’s the perfect thing for me to expose some of my skill and stand triumphantly in the end when I raise the dead through focused energy on making love to you.

Stop smoking, get your Diabetes or Hypertension under control…simple things, get your shit sorted…cause it pisses the hell out of me when a man cannot perform. I have no use for a limp-dicked man…too many things out deh fi sort dem thing deh out before yuh bring foolishness to me.

Resolution Broken

2009-01-26T10:25:00.002-05:00

His unyielding moan brought me down to rest in the feel of him on me. How can a man have such dominion over a body. A question without an answer, it just is and this is how it should be.

He reaches into my soul like a root from the tree of life and he connects with me, and only me, for the night….he is my Yang, my slice of paradise and he knows.

With stealth he breaks down my walls and moves in and out of me to his liking. I shuffle, he dips, I wiggle, he sets firm hands on my ass and directs the flow. Sweet force is never to be under-rated.

Though I know his toxic influence, his venom, I cannot distract myself entirely. How weak a being can be to the feel of one whose nectar thickens the blood, sets the pulse racing and engorges the clit. He restores focus in a way no scientist could test. How does one remain free from the bitter parts of this sweet?

His total surrender at times…no games, no aspect of him locked away from my sight, my touch, my tongue….it colours my cheeks, for he rests under me with such ease that I am intoxicated by his trust in me to please him completely…from the tips of his toes to both heads. I can’t help but be drunk with this power.

To be the woman who breaks him over and over again with words and actions is no small feat. He expects so much from my hands, nipples, my lips and body atop his. He knows its my pleasure to serve so he remains as still as possible to feed my ego, to enjoy the mere moments when all things flow together and prompt a low deep groan from his throat. Being on top of a man is possibly the closest one gets to Eldorado…dragging your tongue along his arms, looking down at his response to your assault, watching him shudder, delving into his mouth with passion untold…..rubbing a sweet, fat, wet pussy over his chest and groin, and he takes it all…magnificently. How can I not enjoy this man?

How can I not enjoy when he rivets me in place and drives home stroke after stroke of unrelenting pleasure? How could I not enjoy this sample of his strength and do my damnedest not to make him see the effects on me, so that the moment will be replayed with obscene frequency, until I give to him that which he sought, and he allows me after to lick away every trace of my release.

Why Can’t I stay away? Because he knows what pleases me.

Changing Course.....Still

2009-01-19T08:32:00.005-05:00

Normally I'm too self absorbed to notice much of anything else happening in the world, but I take note of an unfolding story here. People seem concerned about the fact that the new Governor General will be a Seventh Day Adventist.

At first I must admit that the thought struck me, cause the Nation's Business would have to be done between 6:00pm on Saturday and 6:00pm on Friday of each week. I was cross until I reflected on what the GG really does in a week. I couldn't think of more that twice a year when he actually performs some function to justify his salary..the National Awards and Honours stuff in August and October, and the occasional broadcast, which you and I know could be taped at any golf course/country club across the country. Other than these things, what else does he really do?

So I thought I would play my part in putting peoples minds to rest. The Seventh day GG will have ample time to do the Nation's bidding. In fact, its a good thing he has his other interests, it seems one could end up twiddling ones thumps on tax payers' monies in the circumstances.

Sir Kenneth was no great GG, not even good really. He was a chore to listen to and really ought not to have survived in the post for as long as he did. Farewell loyal son of this soil and I wish him every success in his future endeavours, but a part of me is thankful that I can return to listening to the special broadcasts from the GG again.